


Of Madmen, Misfits & Everything In Between

by nordicdreamsndutchthings



Series: What Goes Around, Comes Around [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Dark Knight (2008)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama & Romance, Dysfunctional Relationships, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-05 02:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 65,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5357507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nordicdreamsndutchthings/pseuds/nordicdreamsndutchthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Joker finds his match, tries to kill the Batman and finds peace in the arms of a struggling college student with a, well, troubled past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Girl Who Was Something Else Altogether

"Tell us everything Miss Alau 'din," Commissioner Jim Gordon urged, holding onto the very last of his self- control and patience, as he peered at a tall, emaciated woman who was absentmindedly picking at her fingernails. "And please make it fast, time is something we don't have right now, the life of two people depends on it!"

The woman closed her eyes and nodded quickly. She was nervous. Very nervous, bordering frightened. She focused all her energy on the core of her being hoping that this would be one of those moments when her mind would play tricks on her, taking her to places she'd rather not be but  _alas!_ \- even after the much successful attempt, nothing happened. She did not find herself in her small, crappy apartment alone and away from the world. No, this was all real- and that is what scared her the most.

And just like that, Misha became all too aware of the people present in the room who were staring intently at her; Commissioner James Gordon and Batman. She sighed heavily before speaking, "I'm so sorry; I'm not usually one for words."

Batman, who by the way, she had just found out to be Bruce Wayne- yes, the _famous party boy_  Bruce Wayne- chuckled. It was weird to see the Batman to chuckle but he had taken the mask off so it was technically Bruce Wayne laughing, though that did not help her much. He was still intimidating as shit.

"Umm, it started off a year ago," she began, thinking hard to remember the exact moment she had forfeited the little sanctuary she had built for herself. It was difficult, to say the least, to pin point the exact moment. "Or was it two years? Yeah, I think it started off somewhere in the second year of my university course. See, I don't exactly keep track of these things. Maybe 2006?" The men waited for her to continue all wearing the exact same calculating looks. It occurred to Misha that they were calculating the time that had passed. If she met the Joker in 2006 than it had to be three years or more; it did not seem like three years however, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

She was a different person now. He had made her a different person. Whether it was intentional or not, she did not know. Neither did she want to, she realized, reverting her gaze back to the wooden table. She liked what she had become. For the first time in maybe forever, she was comfortable in her own skin. She was not bitter, nor was she envious, jealous or any of those emotions anymore. She was just herself. And it felt good. It felt normal. He taught her the difference between right and wrong and what he was doing was wrong. And Misha had the power to stop it. Hence, the reason why she was here the first place.

She looked up at the men seated before her once more and took a deep breath. "Okay, it started off one afternoon when I got home from uni…"

* * *

**_Three years ago…_ **

"Catch me if you can!" He shouted before jumping out of the window. Batman, who was busy dealing with the Scarecrow (his latest former accomplice), punched the man once before following him. The Joker let out a laugh as he ran. It was like a game of tag. Batman chasing him, him running. He wondered why he had never thought of this before, directly mocking the Batman. Sure he hadn't killed anyone or blown up some place to get his attention but he had managed to strike a nerve.

Him, and the Scarecrow.

Well, maybe not because it was the Scarecrow who ended up getting the shit beat out of him. Needless to say, he was alive and happy. Now, if only he could get batty off his trail. He turned his head to the left to see that the caped crusader was hot on his trails. He rolled his eyes. Yup, definitely- he'd be happier if Batso got off his back.

How was he going to do it?

He looked around his surrounding, whatever passed of it anyway as he ran. Where were his stupid minions? He had specifically asked them to pick him up and-

He mentally face palmed himself. Of course, that's where they were. He remembered giving them instructions on parking the escape van near the-

He wasn't far from the park.

_Might as well get there,_  he thought to himself. As much as he'd like to deny it, he was getting a little tired of this chase. He realized that the only way to get to the van and away safely was to make sure that the batman was not after him.

He could throw a _bomb_  or something at him but he didn't have that on him. Right now anyway. He could turn around and cop a fight but it wasn't worth it. Maybe Bats would follow him until he got to the van. His men were not  _so_  stupid (he hoped) and would start firing the moment they saw Batman.

The park came into view but his van was not anywhere to be seen. Where are they? He wondered, slowing down. That was a mistake and Batman took the opportunity to grab hold of him, punching him across the face.

He laughed aloud at the pain. Really, did he actually think that something so trivial could hurt him?

He tried little to defend himself, letting the crusader beat him again and again. It was only when Batman hit his left arm such that a sharp pain plagued through it that he fought back. He never experienced pain but this- this was an indicator that he had broken something.  _Well._

Another sharp pang down his leg, originating from his ankle, and he was convinced that he had broken two things now. His arm and his ankle. Now this was a challenge. He pulled away and ran, his sense of self preservation taking over. Batman followed him once more.

He never planned much in his life, and right now he regretted that. He had to get rid of Batman immediately if he was to see the light of day again. Because the amount of aggression Batman was showing right now may just result in his demise and even the Joker couldn't let that happen.

He ran faster but then he felt a searing pain in one of his legs, and lost his balance. Batman caught up with him- and clearly had a lot of fight in him, since he chose to beat him to the pulp. Needless to say, the Joker felt almost numb after the seventh blow and let his hands dangle towards the ground lifelessly and efficiently drawing the Bat's attention away from them as he reached into his pockets pulling out his knife and running a cut across his face with all the strength he could muster at that moment.

The Batman staggered back, and Joker felt himself fall from his grip and unto the ground. He did not allow himself rest and dragged himself away, his left leg completely useless and most likely broken. It did not help that he'd twisted (or so, he thought) his other leg but it was still functional.

It would do for now. He'd need a lot of rest later to quickly recover and carry on with his plans for Gotham.

He turned into a maze of run down apartments, where puddles of water or motor oil or- bless the setting sun- long shadows were found making it easier to hide. Just another dark turn and he was in front of the fire escape of an old apartment. He heard the Batman run the other and quickly climbed up, hulling himself inside the first open window he could find. It was a bedroom- small but very clean and inviting and he found himself losing conscious just then.

* * *

_RRR-THUD!_

A sound.

The sound of a door opening woke him from his slumber and when it did, he couldn't help but panic. His entire body seemed to be on fire and the fact that he was Gotham's number one criminal did not help. Neither did the fact that he was in someone else's apartment without their permission. There was only one thing left to do, he tried lifting himself off the ground but failed miserably. His legs had finally given out.

He hoped that it was a cat, a dog- really any type of animal, a kid but obviously he wasn't that lucky today.

_"Jee, ab choro bhi. Haan, I'll- I'll call you back? Yes, please do that. Thank you so much. Shukaria! Bye."_

The voice was female and rather airy. Different, actually and the accent was mixed, English and another one he couldn't understand. He looked around the room and realized that it did look the part of belonging to a female what with the white frilled curtains and the pictures on the walls.

_Of course._

He had to end up with a female who would no doubt call the police once she saw him. He made one last effort to crawl into a corner and failed. The door to the bedroom opened and he closed his eyes in anticipation. He wasn't even strong enough to threaten her or something. Might as well just take the jail card- it was better than dealing with Batman anyway.

He heard the wooden floor creak followed by a gasp. "Oh my god, are you alright?" Oddly enough, the woman walked over to him, catching the glimpse of his face. She looked more shocked than horrified but then again, what did one feel when one found Gotham's most wanted in their bedroom?

The irony was impeccable but he did not have time to laugh, his head was throbbing and the reality of his situation was getting the best of him. He partly expected a shriek, a cry for help- anything but that never came. Instead, the woman was kneeling beside him. "Are you alright?" she repeated her question and he felt the urge to hit her. What was she doing? She should have been calling the police by now!

"Urm..I'll get some first aid," she told him when he didn't say anything and rushed out. Joker rolled his eyes. Of all the people he could end up with, he thought but couldn't finish it as once more he lost conscious.

* * *

 

The next time he gained conscious, he felt someone prodding his left leg. When he opened his eyes he saw that it was the woman tending to his left leg. She was so engrossed in her work that she did not notice his awakening. His other leg was also bandaged and it made him wonder exactly what bus he had been run over by. That made him smile until he realized who it was (Batman) and he groaned quietly (so the woman wouldn't hear him. He wasn't ready to face the likes of her yet). Of course, Batsy had to be the one to break him. He wondered where he'd run off to.

He looked around the room, there wasn't much there to begin with. Granted the room was small but that of course had been his first observation of the place. It also lacked well, he couldn't put a finger on it, until his gaze landed on the woman again. Oh yes, it lacked her- the home sweet home feel. There were photographs on the wall, but that was just some university stuff- nothing intimate or personal. A few banners of Gotham University and a big soft board loaded with pamphlets and notes and what not above an equally messy desk.

She's a student, he realized as his gaze landed back on her. He'd give her one thing: she did not look like any of the women he'd made acquaintance with. For one thing, her complexion was- not to be a racist but that didn't even matter since he was the Joker, he reckoned- sallow. She had an oval face- maybe heart shaped he couldn't tell because of the way her short hair fell on her face- with a reasonably pointed chin, an aquiline nose, ridiculously nice lips (he vaguely wondered how it feel to kiss them, but quickly shook the thought away. He clearly hadn't been with a woman for a while now), prominent shaped eyes with a thick set of eyelashes and arched eyebrows. Overall there was an eccentric, exotic look to her.

She wasn't from around here, he realized. But he couldn't put down a place. She looked South American- she should have been South American but she didn't look American. She certainly wasn't European- a student at Gotham University…. Foreign exchange seemed reasonable, he tried to think of countries where she could be from- it didn't help that he did not know many countries and-

"You're awake." He almost jumped out of the bed in fright. Her voice was deep but feminine and then it came to him: She was Middle Eastern.  _Of course._

"Err… yes," he managed to utter, breaking eye contact with her. Whoever she was she had the guts to make immediate eye contact (and intimidate, but he would never admit that) people.

"Huh." She let go of his foot which she had finished bandaging by now. He fought the urge to tell her not to. "Well, want something to eat?"

The accent was relatively American-  _ish._

"Yeah," he nodded. She disappeared out of the room and he wondered if all foreign exchange students were so uninformed or was it just his luck to find the one who knew nothing about him.

Minutes passed and she returned with a tray of what smelled like hot soup. She set it on his lap and he realized that she was wearing an over-sized shirt- so big that the sleeves which were supposed to be short came to her elbows- of the Gotham University Nighthawks.

"Boyfriend's?" he asked her and she rolled her eyes before flopping onto the bed before him.

She arched a brow. "Why is it that every time a woman wears a sports shirt it is automatically assumed that it belongs to her boyfriend?" she asked warily. Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "And I thought the Taliban were sexist. It's kinda like a guy thing isn't it?"

The Joker frowned, but said nothing and tried to eat what she had brought him only to fail because… well, his right hand was broken, bandaged and all and he wasn't good with his left hand. After watching him for a few minutes, the woman sighed.

"Here, let me help." She moved closer to him, taking the spoon and proceeded to feed him.

"Ack, what is this?" he cringed at the taste of the somewhat bland soup.

"Shut up and drink it, it'll make you feel better," she stated. The Joker looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"You do know who I am right?" he asked her.

"I've seen worse," she stated clearly unimpressed and that surprised him.

"What?"

"Yeah."

"Shouldn't you be afraid?"

"Of what? A guy caked with ridiculous face paint?  _Riiigght._ "

He laughed. Nobody thought the face paint was ridiculous. It actually scared the shit out of some people. "Oh I like you."

"Don't," she said almost immediately and he could sense the threat underlying there. Still, he knew better than to bite the hand that fed him. He was weak and he needed to recover.

"What's your name?" he asked her instead.

"Misha." Her answer was curt. She didn't give him a last name he noticed and wondered why.

"Where are you from?" He already knew but wanted her to say it.

"Pakistan." She didn't even look at him. Having fed him, she cleared out of the room, tray in hand.

He smiled widely. He had it all wrong. This girl would prove to be entertaining on her own- much more than he had thought.

"Tell me," he asked when she entered the room again, "why aren't you calling the police yet?"

Misha raised an eyebrow at him as if to say 'really?' and said, "Ever since I've been here, I've been treated differently because I'm a Pakistani ergo, a terrorist and you want me to surrender you to the Gotham police to be accused of harboring a criminal. Ha ha, no. I'd like to be complete my education first. You're only here because you're injured. Otherwise I don't give a damn about you or the police. The moment you've healed, you're back on the streets 'kay?"

He found himself nodding and didn't say anything. She had this air of seriousness surrounding her and he realized that she meant what she said. She made her way across the room towards her desk and started writing something on the paper. It took him a while to realize that she was studying, choosing to ignore him completely. That made him rather angry but he really couldn't do anything about it. He was practically handicapped at the moment.

_"Hellooo?"_  He tried, trying to get her attention. She paid him no heed.

He looked around, upon finding a rubber ball on the side table; he picked up and threw at her. To his surprise, she caught it without even turning.

"If you want to hit people, you don't make it so bloody well obvious," she dryly commented and turned to face him. She was wearing thick, square glasses which she must have worn some time ago (he hadn't noticed her) and, for the lack of a better term, looked plain annoyed.

"You're a horrible host," he said.

"And you're a horrible guest."

The Joker looked heavenwards and groaned. This girl practically countered each and every damn thing he said. This was going to be hard.


	2. Games At Dawn

Come Monday, Joker found himself in Misha's kitchen waiting for Misha to serve him breakfast. Said lady was talking to someone on the phone in Urdu so apart from the occasional mention of words like 'university', 'course', 'please', he really did not know what she was talking about.

Or talking to who for the matter.

Nonetheless by her body language and the way she constantly swung the spatula as she made pancakes, he guessed it was an argument.

Oddly, unlike most of the 'normal' people who lived in Gotham, she did not raise her voice at all. But then again, by what he had seen of Misha all weekend, she was not exactly normal. She was… _different_. He did not know how he felt about it yet.

Finally, she hung up and served him his breakfast. He noticed how she did not bother preparing for herself. Instead, she grabbed a bag that sat in what should have been her seat. "I'll be back in a few hours," she told him. Joker nodded. "Where you going?" he asked her, eyeing her curiously. In the few days since he had been here, he had never once seen her dress up nor had she shown even the most remote interest towards her appearance so why was she,  _well_ , looking good?

It didn't make any sense.

Sure, her choice of torn (at the knees and ends) washed out jeans and shirt (baggy but still less baggy than the ones she'd been wearing around him) was kind of a few years old, but there was still no denying that she looked rather fetching in it. Her curly dark hair was pulled back from her face loosely by a hair pin and she wore no makeup at all with the exception of a gloss.

"Where do you think I'm going?" she retorted, taking a messenger bag of one of the hooks behind her door. "I'm going to GSU for classes. See you in a few." And with that, she walked out.

Joker sighed. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the couch this morning, he thought as he took a bite of the pancake only to realize that it tasted like burnt pancake. He choked and had to don a whole glass of milk to make the taste go away. At least she could have been easy on the food!

* * *

"What's got your panties in a twist Mish?" Iona asked her as they walked out of class.

Misha rolled her eyes turning to her companion. "Why must you use such a vulgar language? There are better ways of expressing curiosity."

The Hispanic snickered. "I'm not interested in an anthropology and linguistics lecture. What's going on? Who pissed ya off this time?"

"Nobody," she shrugged.

"Well somebody did," Carlisle, Iona's boyfriend, joined them. Misha stopped right then and there in the middle of the crowded hallway.

"Why do you guys automatically assume that I'm angry at someone?" she asked them.

"Well, you are," Iona stated, "that, or you're bitter."

"Then bitter I am," she sighed. Carlisle made it a point to laugh right then.

"So we set for the movies tonight?" Iona asked, ignoring her boyfriend.

"Actually, I have an extra shift tonight," Misha lied expertly.

"Really? Why?" her friend asked her.

"Dunno, ask Mr Cambrie," she said dryly.

"Misha you always do this!" Iona cried.

"Hey, I have tuition to pay," she stated as a matter of factly.

Iona sighed "Alright, but next time- I don't give a shit to what happens, you're coming, kay?"

Misha nodded warily and began to walk back home. It was not exactly a long way back but she never used public transport to save on some cash. Today, she made it a point to stop at the grocer's, buying the initials for a few basic meals. Even though she was okay with skipping meals, she highly doubted her 'guest' would appreciate that. She vaguely wondered what kind of food he liked, deducing that he was probably not a vegetarian and given her cooking, would obviously hate the kind of meals she'd cook up. She did know how to make a variety of dishes- just the basic survival stuff and so settled for a bunch of microwavable food. She was debating between a mac n' cheese and a casserole pack when the television overhead the isle flashed a news alert.

Apparently they were worried about the Joker not being around.

 _What strange people,_  she wondered,  _they've a problem when he's there. A problem when he's not. Can't they make up their minds?_

She smirked at that, knowing the answer all too well. These were one of the many, many, many things that eluded her from the people of the world. Misha chose not to think. She didn't choose to speak either and resorted to stay in the sanctuary of her apartment. Not that it was really good or anything. It was pathetic; she did not like her apartment at all. It was not home, but then again, Misha did not have a home.

She briefly remembered a house with an iron gate- like a castle, and that was indeed what she had decided to call it. In her worst moments, she would think about it; her castle, the home she wanted the home she did not have. For some reason it left a mercurial taste in her mouth. And then came the flashbacks…

_'_ _The sky rumbles violently as thunder thrashes about eliciting a number of gasps- and shrieks from the younger ones- from the people who are standing together near an apple tree._

_One more deafening sound of thunder, and it begins raining. Everyone immediately draws out their umbrellas, some making their way back to their respective vehicles._

_The little girl stands in front of two graves lined side by side under the apple tree, unaware of the commotion around her._

_Behind her, her late father's brothers and sisters and their families are already retreating._

_"_ _Come now Misha. It's getting late," her father's lawyer tells her but she is not listening. She can't hear, see or even think beyond what she is experiencing- her parents are dead._

_Shot by a lunatic._

_"_ _Come Miss Alau' din," he repeats, this time much closer to her- to close for her own comfort. He holds her shoulder, his hand lingering at the thin straps of her dress._

_"_ _Stay away from me!" she shrieks, slapping his hand away._

_The man ignores her, turning to her uncle who has only just arrived. "What do you know Mr Alau'din, the girl's lost it. She can't inherit after all. We'll have to provide her with psychiatric help."_

_"_ _What? That's not true!" she shrieks, turning to her uncle. "You know that's not true, uncle. He's lying! He's crazy."_

_But no one hears her. Instead two men dressed in white step forward._

_Suddenly, it all makes sense.'_

Misha shook her head, realizing that she had managed crumble the box of mac n' cheese while thinking; she sighed and put it in her basket. A quick stop to the frozen food section and a longer one at the drink compartment later, she went over to the counter, paid and walked out.

Night fell by the time she reached the apartment. And with every step she took, she found herself dreading it. What was she thinking? She had just taken in Joker- the resident baddy of Gotham; sure the only reason why she did it was because he was hurt- and for some reason, despite everything that had happened to her, she found herself unable to turn down anyone who was injured or homeless or suffering from any sort of thing that rendered them homeless.

Misha groaned.

It was so frustrating. She should be avoiding this very situation. She had her studies and her job to cope with- why the fuck was she getting involved with this guy? It didn't make sense. It should not make sense- it did not make sense and yet here she was doing just the same.

And all too soon for her liking, she found herself staring at the door to her crappy apartment.

Misha was terribly unamused.

"I'm back," she announced as she entered and locked her apartment. To her utmost surprise, she found the Joker lounging on her sofa...and he looked pretty normal for the most wanted criminal in Gotham. Granted, he still wore his make up, but still- he looked  _normal,_ laying there watching telly.

Leaving him there for the time being, she made her way towards the kitchen. She really was not one for food- normally she would just order take away but she couldn't risk the Joker being seen or heard of by anyone. She groaned. What had she gotten herself into?

She didn't even know what he liked- not that  _that_  would be a problem right now. He was injured badly so he would have to take it easy. She wondered if he had a high tolerance towards spices and immediately stopped that train of thought- of course he didn't have a high tolerance, the spiciest thing he probably had ever had in his life must some spicy Mexican food or something- something not far from what the typical American would call spicy.

Misha sighed and turned the stove on. She'd be making something for herself- she didn't know what yet but it would probably be that stir fry her foster mother used to make, or as much as of it  _she_  could come close to cooking. Really, her inability to recreate meals never seized to amaze her, particularly because Pakistani girls were expected to  _literally_  be born with cooking prowess. Not for the first time in her sorry existence did she curse herself for being the exact opposite of what she should have been. Maybe that's why her parents died. She could never live up to any one's expectations. She couldn't even cook a simple meal properly. She couldn't even-

"I'm bored," the Joker's voice interrupted her chain of thoughts.

Misha turned around to look at where he was sitting. He was looking at her, almost expectantly. She couldn't help but be relieved that he spoke when he did- her thoughts had almost pulled her down the rabbit hole and that was not a place she'd like to be. Specially if Gotham's most wanted was under her custody which brought her back to phase one-  _why was she even helping him?_

"So?" she asked him indifferently.

"Well, do something," he said.

Misha made a face at him, as if to say "seriously".

"I'm quite serious," Joker added.

"Okay," she complied, "What do you want to do?"

"Anything."

Sighing yet again, she walked over to the bookshelf near the television, picked up a book and held it out for him. The Joker took it and frowned at the title-  _The Prince by Machiavelli._

"I don't like reading. It's boring."

Misha looked highly amused.

"Well, I could take you out to the nearest park," she said, "but that's kind of impossible because, A. You're the Joker, and B. This is the Narrows and I don't want to get mugged, thank you very much."

He slumped back into his seat and that's when Misha noticed it: his make up was fresh. New, and not the smudged face paint it was yesterday.

"Did you use my make up?"

He looked rather sheepish as he said,"Duh."

"You can't use my stuff without my permission," she cried. If there was one thing Misha hated, it was people touching her things with, or without her permission- be it a simple pencil, she could not stand the idea of someone using her things. Her friend- for she really had no other word for Iona considering how the girl had managed to infiltrate Misha's life without her really wanting to, in fact, Misha did not even remember the exact moment when Iona Lewis decided that she would be friends with her. Sometime during economics? Misha did not know- said that she had an OCD or something but even Misha knew that she was not _that_  damaged (or so, she hoped anyway) because unlike what people generally thought, OCD was a serious mental illness she did  _not_  have an OCD, she was just very... _possessive_  about her things.

But that was the principle of things. Any normal human being would feel annoyed at someone using their things without permission which is exactly what the Joker had done and yet he had the audacity to look confused at why she was trying so hard to control her temper.

"It's not right," she told him, "to use things without people's permission. Why the fuck do you even need any make up?"

"It's part of the look," he stated and Misha groaned.

"What look?" she asked, eying the outfit that he was wearing- it wasn't the weird neon suit he wore yesterday, she had given him a pair of sweats and a t- shirt, one of the reminders of what one of her night stands forgot or chose not to take in the hope that she'd call them up or something (she never did). He would have looked normal, if it was not for the damned make up.

"Look, darling," he emphasized. "I'm the Joker."

Misha rolled her eyes. "I know that," she said. "But right now you're not the Joker. You're just some guy who's crashing at my place so could you please take it off and-  _God help me_ \- be normal-ish for a while so I can call for take out without worrying about you being discovered." Because, yes, she had decided to forsake cooking for the day, he could live with take out.

"No can do," he said, "but if it makes you feel any better, I'll ask you the next time I use your stuff, okay?"

Misha said nothing to that, just took a deep breath and disappeared into her room with a loud slam. She did not come out until it was well past ten.

* * *

The Joker was halfway through the book the girl- Misha had given him when he heard the doorbell and even though he would never admit it to anyone alive or dead, that did startle him. He had been reading for quite a long time considering how two hours later from when Misha had decided to retreat into her room, he had finally realized that she was not going to be entertaining him whatsoever and so he had turned to the book to keep him company. Misha's flat was ridiculously quiet, he'd noted, and very, very peaceful. It was also very still- the very air in the apartment was stagnant. But it was a good kind of quiet, he had decided sometime ago before the new problem arose- the doorbell.

He briefly considered opening it and seeing if the visitor could be, well, disposed of but then remembered that even though the sprain was better, he still had a broken leg and a broken arm and he really could not do anything until either had been fully repaired.

The doorbell did not stop ringing and finally, Misha stumbled out of her room and quickly sprinted towards the door. She opened it partly and stepped out. The Joker couldn't help but notice that there was something wrong with her movement. Or maybe she was asleep and had just woken up. He didn't know.

She stepped back in and shut the door firmly and he saw that she was holding a large box of pizza and another parcel.

"Dinner," she replied to the questioning expression he had on his face. She walked over to the couch where he sat and sat beside him, placing the box on the little coffee table which he was using as a foot rest. She took out a couple of drinks from the parcel and a package which she opened to reveal a few garlic breads.

"I didn't know what you liked," she told him, "so I ordered Pepperoni because everyone seems to like it here." He chuckled at that. "And Coke- because I don't drink, is that okay?"

He frowned a little at that but muttered a tiny "Yeah". No one said anything as they ate, he eating his slice of pizza and she nibbling on the garlic bread. There was something different about her, he thought as he observed her. She looked a little...pale. Again that could have been due to sleep or the lack of it. He decided to let it be. It was her business anyway.

When they finished, she cleaned up and made her way towards the kitchen to store the reminder of the pizza in the fridge. He decided to join her there for the sake of it. It was close to three in the morning by now, or so, said the kitchen clock.

"Don't you have to go to GSU tomorrow?" he asked her.

"Yes," she said.

"Why aren't you, you know, sleeping then?"

"I was sleeping," she answered quickly.

He said nothing and watched her in silence as she went about the kitchen. When she was done, she looked at him for a long time before saying, "Wanna play chess?"


	3. A Different Kind of Getting-To-Know-You

She had work the next day and as per the norm, that got her in a bad mood. Thankfully, Iona steered clear of her during classes (Misha couldn't be more grateful though she did notice that Carlisle was not around either) and her professor decided to grace them all with a quiz which Misha had not studied for.

So with a tormenting B grade and a slightly bitter taste in her mouth that surfaced these days after the events of last night which she'd rather not recall, followed by the better version of the night with- and this was a first- the _Joker,_  Misha made way for home.

Not that it was much of a home. Her apartment often made her feel claustrophobic, restricted and rather pathetic but it was really all that she could afford. Her world was dull, a deep shade of gray- daring her to slide to the dark side because honestly, that's where things were better. Seriously- take that mob dude- Maroni's son. He was attending GSU too- he had a class in common with her. The twat never attended class, much less did his assignments and he still got top grades because all the teachers were either afraid or had been bribed by his father. Maroni's son who never had to spend a day in his life feeling helpless, without support, love and the subconscious feeling of impending doom. She bet  _he_  never felt like he was trapped in a vicious cycle.  _He_  had everything and anything he'd ever want. And he took all that for granted.

Not for the first time, Misha decided that the world was unfair. Bad things happened to good people though after years of contemplating she highly doubted she was one of the 'good people' anymore. She was not a bad person either though. She was somewhere in between and that is why she was at this point in life. She had to choose a path and she was not sure which one to pick. After all, the only thing that kept her from going bad completely were her parents.

Misha clamped her fists at the thought. No, that was not a path she'd venture into today. She did not like thinking of her parents. Her _stupid,_  dead parents who left her in this cruel, harsh world without any sort of protection or backing. She hated them so much- if she could, she would go back in time and let them have a piece of her mind.

The thought brought a smile on her face. Really, that was _literally_  the last thing that ought to be on her mind at the moment and yet every now and then, she'd fantasize about the world's most impossible scenario. She really was losing it wasn't she? No wonder she was housing the Joker- she was crazy, a completely insane bag of cats. She deserved what she was having to deal with.

Having arrived home, she walked into the kitchen to get started with dinner. Strangely enough, she found the meal she'd prepared for him in the microwave, half eaten.

Misha raised an eyebrow.  _Huh?_

She wondered if he wasn't hungry or if he had not bothered having lunch at all. This would be the first time he'd skipped a meal since he began staying with her. Maybe he didn't like South Asian food? Not that she'd made something exclusively South Asian. Why, it was just a quick chicken stir fry she'd quickly put together with some rice.

Frowning, she walked out of the kitchen towards her room where she knew for a fact that he would be hiding.

He was.

He was reading that book she'd given him.

He was also wearing a fresh coat of makeup.

Misha wanted to strangle him.

"Hey," she said, before realizing that he had not given her his name. Well, no one knew his name but it would be weird to call him Joker to his face right? She decided to settle for 'you'. "You haven't eaten your lunch."

The Joker looked up from his book with an exasperated look on his face. "No," he replied, "it's too damn spicy."

Misha raised a brow, leaning against the doorframe. "You don't like South Asian food?" she asked him.

"I don't like spicy food which can kill ya," he retorted.

Misha smirked. "Well, we've got an issue," she muttered to herself before speaking aloud, "So just spicy food then?"

He nodded and she went back into the kitchen. This could be a problem indeed. She was a bad chef. A horrible chef and could only make stuff which she liked. And that too sucked. She wondered if she ought to let him know but decided against it.

 _This ought to be interesting,_  she thought as she took out the crumbled box of mac n cheese. She hoped to god it would turn out good.

It did not.

The Joker was giving Grumpy a run for his money with scowl he was wearing. Misha wouldn't blame him though. The mac n' cheese didn't exactly look appetizing. For one thing, it was a sickly green in colour. For another,  _well,_  it stank.

"This looks disgusting," she admitted.

The Joker was all too eager to nod.

"Let's just get rid of this and order some takeout, yeah?" she suggested and proceeded to dump the entire dish into the trash can in the kitchen.

The Joker followed her and together, they decided to order Thai.

"You usually live like this?" he asked her, once she'd ordered, as they settled onto the couch in the living room…well, space because that's what it was- a little space that was separated by the counter of her kitchenette.

She nodded before turning to face him, "yeah, why?"

"Nothing," he said, "you don't know how to cook do you?"

"No," she replied, "I never needed to."

Now it was his turn to raise a brow. "Never needed to?"

Misha rolled her eyes. "Yes, do you have a problem with that?" she asked him coldly.

He held out his hands in surrender. "No," he said, stretching out the syllables. "You don't look like one of those rich kids though," he mused, "but then- you're arrogant. Like them. What's the story? Had a fight with your filthy rich parents?"

Misha's jaw tightened at that, but she said nothing. This instigated him to go on.

"What? Did your parents ask you to- I dunno- not follow your dreams?" he sneered. "Or was it something to do with-"

He couldn't complete his sentence. Misha had slapped him hard across the face. And it stung- which is what set him off laughing. "Oh you've got issues alright," he sang. "Wonder how long Daddy'll let ya live like this, hmmm?"

He did not flinch when she slapped him again. But when he did look at her, he saw that she was fuming. Misha was red in the face and saw red too.

"For your information, my parents died a long time ago," she snapped before storming off to her room.

_SLAM!_

This time, he did flinch. There was really no reason for her to be so melodramatic, he thought as he made his way towards her room. Truth be told, he was getting tired of her doing that every other night. It had been four days since he'd arrived at her abode and three out of those four days were spent on them arguing about one thing or the other.

He knocked on her door, hoping to make amendments because honestly- he was going to have to live with her for a few more weeks since neither his arm or foot had healed and he knew- from watching the news all day long- that Batman was hell bent on looking for him.

"Enter," her voice was calm and hoarse.

Maybe she had calmed?

He hoped so. He wasn't good with emotions.

At least, the annoying, mushy ones.

"Hey," he said, once he'd entered and sat beside her. She was not doing much. Honestly, with the way she'd looked, he had thought that she might end up demolishing her room or something. Instead, she just sat on her bed, looking at the wall opposite them.

She did not say anything to him either.

"Y'know, I'm not the feel-y kind of guy right?" he said, hoping to make her feel better.

"I know," her voice was cold.

"And I am the Joker."

"I know."

"So, you really don't need to get all..." his voice trailed off when he saw that she was glaring at him. _If looks could kill..._

"I think we'll get along perfectly, if you keep your mouth shut once in a while," she suggested rather rudely.

"Noted," he agreed, nodding his head.

They sat there in silence for a while before he decided it was getting awkward and spoke up, "So, you going to be tell me why you lost your shit back there?"

Misha gave him an annoyed side long glance and sighed. "I'm not filthy rich," she said, "And even if I was, I'd give it all away. I hate money and what it could make you do."

"Ah, that we both agree with it," he said.

She frowned.

"Anarchy," he emphasized. "If anarchy existed, this wouldn't be a problem."

She laughed bitterly at that.

"Anarchy would make things worse," she scoffed.

"Nah," he disagreed, "it's good. A world without rules, without any limitations."

"You do realize that humans have a tendency to exploit things right?" she asked him.

He said nothing but smiled instead.

"It's a carnal, animalistic characteristic that we all possess," she went on, "if anarchy existed, the world would be far more dangerous than it is right now."

"You think the world's dangerous?"

"You're in it, wouldn't you think so?"

He cackled loudly at that. "Oh, you're funny."

"I'm not," she said immediately.

"You know, you need to loosen up a bit," he told her, nudging her shoulder lightly.

She looked terribly unamused but said nothing.

"Why do I get the feel that you hate people?" he questioned her.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "I don't, do you?"

" _Me?_  I don't hate people- I hate the system."

"Well, that makes the two of us."

He was surprised at that revelation- he hadn't chalked her out to be one of those rebels against society. She seemed smart. Maybe he was overlooking something here.

"I hate how the system allows people to exploit others. How the powerful can bully the weak and get away with it," she explained, obviously having read his facial expressions.

"And you don't believe in anarchy?" he inquired. Misha smiled warily. At that very moment, the door bell rang.

"I don't, I just think that the system could be better," she admitted before getting up to answer the door.

* * *

That night, after dinner, both of them sat opposite one another on her bed and played a game of spin the just like he had expected, Misha disapproved of the entire notion

"I don't see the point," she said for the fifth time as she spun the empty bottle of coke. For one thing, this was not spin the bottle- they were just spinning the damn thing and asking each other questions or dares if the far end of the thing faced the person opposite the other.

"Shut up," he said, childishly, "I like it."

She rolled her eyes. "Look, it's truth!" she said in mock enthusiasm.

He grinned. "Ask me a question."

"Any question?"

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

"Yup."

"What if it's embar-"

"Just ask me a question."

She sighed before speaking, "What's your name?"

He visibly froze and that and Misha shrugged. "What? I told you- it's a stupid game." With that, she stood up to leave the room but he took hold of her arm and pulled her back.

"The name's Jack," he whispered into her ear.

Misha's eyes widened. She sat up and stared at him.

"Seriously?" she asked him.

He looked rather sheepish.

" _But that's so normal!"_

He laughed out loud at that. Honestly, that was the first outburst he'd heard from her that reflected her young age. She sounded like a child and he found that he liked that.

"Well, that's the thing about normal," he said, "all it needs is a little pushing- and _BAM!_  You're crazy."

She frowned but said. "Seriously though," she mumbled. "Jack, of all the names." Then she added, "That's highly unoriginal you know."

It was his turn to frown. "What?"

"Yeah, J for Jack, J for Joker," she said, "that's lame."

"Please," he waved it off, "that's very original."

"As if."

"What's your name then?"

"Misha."

"Misha what?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me yours."

He let out an exasperated sigh before saying, "Jack Napier."

"Misha Alau'din."

"Okay," he said, "Tell me about yourself Misha Alau'din."

Misha rolled her eyes. "You actually think I'm going to tell you about myself."

"Uhh, yes?"

She smiled at that. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"Oh c'mon."

"I don't want anything to be held against me."

"How about we make a deal?" he said, "I tell you something about myself, and you do the same."

She was reluctant but nodded.

They spoke of the most random of all things.


	4. "Life Ain't Fair, Darlin'."

  
"Someone's in a good mood," Iona chirped (because,  _really_ , that's what Iona did) as they made their way out of class.

Misha hummed but said nothing. Truth be told, she was in a good mood. She'd been in a good mood since last night after their ridiculous game of not spin the bottle. She'd been so happy that she had made and eaten breakfast for herself and had not minded when Jack complained about it being burnt nor did she grimace at the fact that it was burnt.

She was in such a good mood that she doubted anything or anyone could make her feel otherwise.

And she had no idea why, especially since her brain kept telling her that this would not last. And- God- how right that turned out to be.

Misha and Iona made their way out of their college campus and were stopped by the chauffeur (for he had to be a chauffeur, given how he was dressed right?) of a rather neat looking BMW.

"Miss Alau'din?" he asked her as though he did this every day. Misha frowned, beside her, Iona was grinning excitedly. She mentally rolled her eyes at her friend's lack of perception. After all, did they or did they not live in Gotham- one of the most dangerous cities in America, if not the world? There was nothing great about someone randomly coming up to them- especially if they seemed to have a rich donor behind them. Misha had an inkling of who it might be and hoped with all her might that it was not.

Of course, there was only so much power in hoping.

"Uh-huh," she said indifferently.

"Come with me," he said, "Mr Alau'din wants to see you."

She rolled her eyes but nodded anyway. Then, turning to Iona said, "I'll see you in a while hmmm?"

Her friend nodded, giving her a thumbs up before walking off. Misha glanced after her, watching her leave.  _Some friend, willing to leave her in the lion's den alone._

Not that she ought to blame Iona. She had no idea.

No one did.

Not that she expected them to anyway. After all, it was her choice not to.

Misha followed him and curtly thanked him when he opened the door of the vehicle and stepped inside.

"Good evening," the cold voice greeted her.

She sighed before muttering in reply.

"Speak up, I can't hear you," her aunt's voice was sharp. Misha briefly looked at her and then back to her uncle.

"Good evening," she managed a little loudly.

"And how are you?" her uncle asked.

"Good."

Her aunt was busy inspecting her nails as if they were more important than her. Actually, Misha realized, her nails  _were_ more important to her than Misha was. Typical.

She did not really care much about her aunt. What she did care about, though, was why her uncle and aunt were seeing her. They did not care about her. The last time she saw them, they'd made it pretty obvious. So why were they bugging her now?

"Misha," her uncle began. "you know that your grandfather has been sick for quite a long time."

_Yeah, since I was born, if I recall._

She nodded in acknowledgement.

"And the doctors have given up at this point and we have the option to pull the plug anytime but we haven't."  _Obviously because then you'll lose everything._

"Well," he leaned forward, "we've decided to pull the plug."

Misha frowned slightly. This was news to her!

"Of course, we'd like you to sign a few documents first," her aunt interjected. Her uncle looked quite pained at the thought but nodded anyway and handed Misha a bundle of documents.

Misha took them and read the front page, wondering what on earth would they want her to-

_Of course._

It was a document denouncing her claim on the family business. Everything was sorted out, she found out as she read through the pages. With her out of the line of succession, her uncle would get their family business. Years and years of hard work done by her grandfather and father would pass on to this man and his family.

She wanted to tear the document and give it back to him. She wanted to let him have a piece of her mind. She wanted to threaten him, take him to court for depriving her of her birthright this time, forever- and _oh,_  that hurt- and sue him for fraud, ill- treatment and all those horrible things he and his family had done to her and yet-

And yet, she said nothing.

Her knuckles were white as she held the papers but she went on to ask for a pen which she was quickly provided with. She could feel a bitter taste in her mouth as she signed the papers and handed it back to him.

This is not what her parents- her grandfather, even- would want her to do. But she did not have a choice now did she?

She'd need money to go to court, money and resources which she did not have. It would become a major issue- broadcasted from Gotham all the way to New York. She'd be looked at as the poor orphan girl who got the wrong end of the stick- the Cinderella without the happy ending and if there was one thing she could not do was stand the attention. And after all, what would be the point of it all anyway?

Her aunt and uncle were cunning- she'd give them credit for that. They would probably use their resources and influence to make her look bad. She had come to Gotham for a new start; this was not the way to go with it.

So she made her choice and stepped out of the car at the first stop and walked back home. She did not look up, or behind to see if they were following her (her uncle did that sometimes out of pity or guilt or- _and this was hilarious_ \- misplaced protective instincts since she lived in the single most dangerous part of town) and resorted to simply looking at the ground, wondering why the hell were her eyes stinging so much.

It was not something she ought to cry about. It had been pretty obvious to her that she was a nuisance to her relations and they would eventually get rid of her. She had known this since she was twelve years old. Why was it hurting so much?

Misha did not want to acknowledge it but she did know the answer. Some part of her had actually thought that- well- someday, she'd get the justice she deserved. Of course, it was a fancy passing but it had stayed in her subconscious and was killing her at this very moment. She had thought that she would have the opportunity to get justice when the time came but of course, she had been rather naïve hadn't she?

There were only two kinds of people in the world: those without power who were too afraid to try to gain it somehow and those with power who could make the powerless do what they wanted. And Misha was one of the powerless. She was weak- so weak that it was almost pathetic.

And before she knew it, she was standing at the gate of her apartment building. The closing of a car's door alerted her and yes, she had been right. He had followed her here. She briefly wondered what he wanted. Hadn't he taken enough already?

She turned slightly and saw her uncle standing next to her.

Once upon a time, Jury ( ** _A/N: pronounced Ju-rie where JU is like JU in JUG; it means brave in Arabic or so, says my foreign language teacher_** ) Alau'din had been her most favorite uncle, spoiling her rotten to the immense annoyance of her mother. They would go to the Central Park together and eat ice cream and more often than not, he'd take her shopping to some high end store or toy shop and return her home way past her bedtime. That had been twelve years ago. Misha would be nineteen in November, two months from now. And  _God,_  it seemed a lifetime ago.

"Who's your course coming along?" he inquired as though he actually cared.

"Good," she replied simply.

"You're in your…?"

"Second year."

"And you're studying Business administration?"

"...Yes." She did not know what he was getting at.

"You know, once you're done you can come back to New York and we can talk abo-"

"Uncle, I don't need your pity," she stopped him, meeting his gaze for the first time because that is exactly what she hated the most after attention- pity. "There's a reason I moved to Gotham and I'd like to say here. You can offer someone else a job at your company. Someone who might actually want it." With that, she walked into the apartment building knowing full well that he would not follow her. His wife would not let him. She was surprised her aunt even let him speak to her, let alone venture into this part of town.

What she did not notice however, was that Jack had seen the entire exchange through her sitting room's window.

* * *

"So who's the rich dude?" he asked her the moment she was inside. Misha looked upwards at the ceiling and sighed as if to say  _'really?'_  to whoever it was that dwelled in the Heavens and was letting this happen to her.

"My uncle," she answered making her way towards the kitchen. To nobody's surprise, the Joker followed her.

"You know, I look forward to the day you stop using my make up," she stated before setting off to work. She wanted to make something nice today- something that would make her feel better. The rabbit hole was almost within sight and she did not want to go down it tonight.

"I thought you said you weren't rich," he countered. Misha could have punched him for that. Unknowingly, he was sprinkling salt to her wounds and it hurt.

"You know, for one of the most dangerous criminals in Gotham, you're ridiculously dense," she mused as she decided what to make- stir fry or ramen noodles?

"What's better?" she finally admitted defeat and asked him, holding up the two ready-to-make packages of food.

"Noodles please," he said, "and try not to burn it."

She glared at him and set to work. Once the noodles began to boil, there really was not much to do. And that's when Misha felt her thoughts wander off again…

_Her uncle Jury was seven years younger than her father. He was seventeen when her father married her mother and had only finished his education when she was born. The young Jury Alau'din adored his niece. Maybe it was because she was the only child born after years of trying. Maybe it was because she was the only child Jury had ever come in immediate contact with._

_No one knew._

_But everyone knew that Jury worshipped his niece. Her father would often be away on business trips so it was Jury and her own mother who she knew well as she grew up. It was safe to say that Jury was a substitute father for Misha in her early years. He was her best friend, her confider and even her protector._

_She remembered well when one day she came home with a vicious scratch on the side of her face. Her mother had been shocked when she saw it but had only told her to be more careful._

_Jury on the other hand, had been most displeased. With utmost strictness, he had demanded in the most firm voice she had ever heard from him (back then) to tell her exactly what and who had been responsible for it._

_Misha told him. It was nothing really, she'd said at the end. It was just this one boy in class who'd scratched her. Her teacher had said that he did it because he liked her._

_"_ _That's rubbish," he growled, "what kind of school teaches their children that? I say Misha, if a boy hits you, he means to hurt you. He most certainly does not like you."_

_Her uncle was furious, to say the least._

_The next day, he'd gone up to the Principal. Misha never found out what he said to her. All she remembered was some hushed noises coming from the Principal's office as she waited for him. When she went to class, she found that the boy who'd scratched her- Ryan White- had vanished and Misha became the coolest girl in nursery group II with the awesome uncle who got The Ryan White, aka the guy who ate glue without feeling sick the least, suspended._

At present, Misha realized that something was burning. Alarmed, she found that the noodles had burned. A lump of sickly brown was staring back at her from the pot and from the sitting room, the Joker groaned aloud.

"Why'd ya burn it now?" he asked her loudly. Suddenly he was standing in front of her, looking very displeased at the outcome of the meal. "Really?" he asked. "What the hell is wrong with you? How can you burn ramen noodles? Jesus, Misha!"

He was angry and at that very moment it became too much for Misha; the rabbit hole was within sight now- just waiting for her to fall through it and she felt horrible. She wanted to positively  _die_  at that moment and before she knew it, she was hugging the Joker of all people and crying- sobbing into his chest because really, only she was  _that_ fucked up.

* * *

She didn't quite remember how it happened. It could have been magic for all she knew- and really, she found that she did not care about it at all. But somehow, she found herself on the couch with Jack, her head resting on his chest, breathing heavily as he played with her hair.

She vaguely recalled crying and screaming profanities.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"Shh, it's fine," he said softly.

Misha found that she rather liked their seating arrangement.

"I really don't know what happened," she admitted.

"I guess everyone has their breaking point," he joked, "this was yours. Though, most people are a bit more dramatic."

She smiled wearily at that.

"Of course," she agreed.

"You didn't tell me what caused it though," he said.

"It's nothing really," she shrugged. "Nothing to talk about."

"Ah, but that's what got you in this position now didn't it?" For someone who was mad, he sure talked a lot of sense sometimes.

"I guess…"

"Tell me. I won't hold it against you," he assured her.

"You couldn't even if you wanted to," she pointed out.

He sighed in defeat.

"My uncle is fucking bastard," she told him.

"Isn't everyone that?"

"He is," she sneered, "he just took away my inheritance from me and had the audacity to recruit me to work for him. ME! Can you believe it?"

He didn't look surprised when he said, "Well, there's the rich for ya." And then as though something clicked, said, "So you are a rich kid."

Misha glared at him. "No," she insisted, "I'm not. I don't want to be if that's what money will do to you. It's just- gosh, it's so unfair!"

He said nothing and she went on, "It's so unfair how his kids get everything they'd ever want and I've always had to work for it. My parents died when I was twelve and ever since then, he's made my life miserable. I was made to attend public school while his kids went to some great private school. His kids need only say it to get something, it'd take days of contemplation to give me permission to join my school for a fucking compulsory fieldwork."

She hadn't realized it but she'd buried her face deeper into his chest so that she could smell him. He smelt of gunpowder and motor oil and strangely peppermint. He smelled… nice. And that, she thought, was something refreshing.

"Life ain't fair, darl," he told her and for once, she simply nodded. He was only right after all. They stayed like that for a while and before she knew it, they'd ended up asleep.


	5. The Man Behind The Joker

Life went on.

Misha and the Joker settled into a routine and started more like roommates than the whole "You're here because you're fucking injured, 'kay?" thing they had going on. Of course, the Joker- Jack, his name was; Misha still had her doubts ( _how could his name be so normal?_  She'd often muse)- was no ordinary roommate what with him always caking what little makeup she possessed for college events and stuff like that- and the fact that she never really let him out of the apartment complex because people would obviously realize that she was harboring a terrorist because of her twisted belief in humanity and all that.

But nevertheless, things were normal.  _Ish._

Things were never normal with Misha.

Or so, she liked to think.

Gotham State University was having a charity week once more and as per the normal, she found herself cooking a ridiculous amount of stuff and making a conscious effort to, well, not burn them.

Of course, there was the tiny little problem that Misha wasn't exactly the best chef in town.

Actually, she was the worst.

And she, Iona and Joker all knew about that. And Carlisle too, though she was not too sure about him.

So on Monday morning when Iona signed both of them up for a freaking cooking competition, Misha could not really understand why that had happened. When asked, her bubbly friend had simply smiled and said that this was the push Misha needed to be a better chef; besides, her chocolate chip cookies and other things weren't  _that_  bad. Why, they'd sold like hot cakes at the bake sale. Misha had responded rather factually that the only reason why they'd even sell was because of the fact that it was raining and they were hot.

Iona begged to differ.

Which is why one Saturday afternoon, the Joker found her in the kitchen, surrounded by plates of burnt food looking positively frustrated it.

"What's this? I thought the bake sales had ended," he said, sitting on the stool at the counter beside her where she sat with her head down resting on her crossed arms.

"They have," she grumbled.

He raised a brow questioningly and she sighed.

"Fucking Iona set me up for a fucking cooking competition for fucking charity which is on fucking Wednesday and as per the norm,  _I'm a fucking disaster_ ," she stated.

He cackled at that and she frowned.

"It's not funny Joker," she said and his laughter immediately died.

Suddenly, he looked annoyed. Misha rolled her eyes at that. "What?" she asked but he said nothing. Instead, he addressed the issue at hand.

"I think this is the push you need to be a better chef."

"That's what Iona said," she told him. "She also said that I could do it. I can't do this."

He smiled at that.

"Well, 'course you can! You're Misha Alau'din- you can do anything!"

He sounded a little too cheerful and optimistic to seem genuine and she briefly wondered if he was making fun of her. He'd never done that before so she had her doubts.

"Stupid cooking competition," she muttered before pushing herself off the stool and back to her station.

"I've been researching you know," she went on, "evaluating my weaknesses and all that jazz."

It was his turn to frown so she elaborated. "I've realized that I can't bake stuff because I'm horrible with following instructions. I'm gonna cook. I'm good with spices because of Indo-Aryan genes _obviously_ and I like meat. I'm okay with vegetables- I mean, I've never burned them though I don't think you can burn vegetables. So… this maybe?"

She held up the book she'd been using to practice cooking and Jack saw that it was some really fancy looking steak recipe- something which Misha couldn't manage in a million years.

And given how confident she seemed with it, it made the situation downright funny and the Joker started laughing. Very, very loudly- bordering hysterical as though someone had told him the joke of the century or something.

Misha did not find that funny. Not. At. All.

"You think this is a  _joke?_ " she demanded, very, very sternly.

Nothing happened. He only laughed a little harder at that. He even let out a wolfish howl. Misha felt the blood raising to her face. _He was making fun of her!_

"I can't believe it! After all we've been through!" she cried, angrily. "You're making fun of me! Way to be supportive!"

He managed to bring himself together a bit at that and remarked, "I'm all for enthusiasm but, really, do you actually think _you_ can cook  _that?"_

She gritted her teeth, narrowed her eyes and was only about to stomp to her bedroom when he interrupted her.

"Oh right, now she's gonna lock herself in her room for the rest of the evening, how mature."

That did it. That was the finally straw. She marched up to him and slapped him right across the face before walking out of her apartment.  _Talk about being rude!_

"The nerve of him," she grumbled when she realized that she could hear him starting to laugh once more from the hallway.  _No wonder everyone thought he was crazy- he was! And he was so mean!_

Needless to say, she did not return to her crappy, Joker infested apartment for the rest of the afternoon. At least, Iona was more supportive than him.

* * *

Her apartment was strangely quiet when she got back, she noticed. No sign of the madman himself. Misha shrugged, thinking he was either in her room asleep- she'd have to kick him out of there if that were the case- or in the bathroom- t _aking a shower,_ she hoped, which she never really caught him doing. The guy  _reeked_  of motor oil and gun powder and even though it wasn't exactly unpleasant, the smell was getting to her now. She made her way to the kitchen and began to prepare dinner. But first, she had to clean up the mess she'd made from earlier.

After spending hours with Iona, she'd realized that really- she did not need to win this competition because that was really what was driving her to do anything in the first place (she had always been a perfectionist but whatever.) and she'd go with the flow on the day of the competition. After all, she  _was_  just a college student. They could not really expect a Master Chef worthy meal from her. But whatever.

She wanted to relax.

She was also in the mood for some Chinese tonight which was not takeout. Of course, she knew, like all the Pakistanis she knew, she would just be making something that  _looks_  like Chinese but not taste like it with all the spices and herbs she would probably be putting into the sauce if she didn't burn it and truth be told, Chinese was one of the few meals she never really burned because, well, she liked Chinese. The Joker, she reckoned, would not appreciate it what with him being completely Americanized, in and out (he ought not to be that though, she thought, after all, he  _was_ a terrorist. Wasn't he supposed to be anti- America or something? Or did he just hate people?) but really,  _fuck him._ He could live with it for one night. He had, after all, been so horribly mean to her earlier today.

She was nearly done with the meal and was setting the table- well, coffee table- when the Joker finally stepped out of- yes, he had been in there,  _thank the lord_ \- the bathroom.

"Dinner's almost done," she said, turning to face him- completely intending to act indifferent. She was not going to let find out that he was right about his remarks earlier. At Iona's she had- rather sorrowfully too with a lump of black meat- come to realize that she could not cook her meal of choice. For god's sake he ought to feel sorry about what he said the way he said it. People stopped talking to people for life because of that sort of behavior; the least she could do was be a tad bit offended because that's exactly what she was. Offended.

All she wanted was for him to heal quickly and get out of her hair. She was really getting tired because of all of this. She had her own problems to deal with. She was not adding the Joker's issues to the ever mounting list.

What she saw, however, caused her to freeze.

At the exact place where the Joker ought to be standing was a tall, handsome- she reluctantly allowed herself to think- man. He certainly wore what she'd set out for the Joker. It was only after she'd observed him enough to see that scar that marred his face, running right through his mouth that she realized who he was-  _Jesus Christ,_  Misha thought,  _was this how he looked like underneath all that make up?_

Misha hoped she was not staring too much. But of course, she was. Staring. She was staring at him quite wide- eyed. He looked... _hot._

_What the hell was wrong with her?_

The Joker, for his part, looked rather sheepish. "Yeah, I know," he said, sort of embarrassed. "It's been a week and I hadn't showered. I felt weird."

Misha continued to stare at him. Even his voice was different- it was deeper and huskier than the Joker's.

"Uhh, Misha?" he asked her, waving a hand in front of her face. It was only then that Misha snapped out of her trance and realized two very significant things:

A. He was standing directly in front of her, and

B. He'd called her by her name.

Misha stepped back, creating a distance between them and walked back into the kitchen. After plating the meal, she walked back into the living room and set it in front of him. The Joker, she'd noticed,  _or was it Jack now? She_  wondered. He'd told her his name a week after he'd taken to living with her and even though she had addressed him with it a few times, she had never quite seen him as Jack. It was the makeup and the weird voice that made her call him Joker instead of Jack and even though he didn't seem to mind, he did look annoyed every now and then when she did.

Regardless, whoever he was now, he was sitting on the couch-  _like a normal person_ , her brain screamed. In front of him, on the coffee table, sat a can of soda and her diet 7up.

 _Guess he's going to be considerate now too,_  she mused, handing him his meal and sitting down beside him. She no longer felt comfortable around him. Not that she ever felt comfortable around him, it was just that- well, it was easier for her to talk to the Joker and not this guy because her brain wasn't working and she could almost believe in the lie that he was insane. Now it became exceedingly clear that there was someone behind the Joker- that he had been someone before all of this. He wasn't born this way and that unsettled her as she found herself wondering what had happened to him to,  _well,_  make him become someone as crazy as the Joker.

And that also triggered the red lights in her conscious. She was curious- heck,  _concerned_  even- about the man seated beside her. It was no longer something trivial anymore.

This could get personal.

Misha did not do personal. It was never good for her to get attached to someone for long. And it had been five weeks- way too long for someone to be her constant companion. Even Iona wasn't around five out of seven days a week. In fact, the only reason why Iona and she were even friends was because she only saw her a couple of times a week on Mondays and Wednesdays and that too was not guaranteed because Iona would be out with Carlisle sometimes and Misha had her own work schedule to cope up.

If she didn't know better she would say that Jack was a better friend- in proportion to the amount of time he spent with her- than Iona was. And Iona made an effort to be friends with her.

 _Oh yes_ , this was getting personal. She had to do something about it before it go-

The sound of someone coughing repeatedly made her snap out of her reverie. Misha turned to her right to find  _Jack_  coughing.

"What the hell?" he cried, before taking a swing from his drink. "Misha, I know you're angry- you don't have to kill me! Jesus Christ!" He took another swing from the can and Misha decided that she quite liked the way he said her name.

_Mee-shah._

It had a ring to it.

A lot of people mispronounced her name and more often than not, she had to correct the idiots. She hadn't done that to him. Actually, he could pronounce her name right away after the first time she had told him.

He was _nice_  to her, she realized, albeit indifferent but she was indifferent to him too so…  _yeah._  It was only fair after all.

And he was talking to her. Like, right now.

Misha turned her attention back to Jack.

"I know you like spicy stuff," he was saying, "but this is too much."

Misha frowned, wondering why he was saying that when she looked down at her untouched plate and realized that she had handed him the wrong plate. She liked spicy food and because of him had to tone down the spice a little but that did not stop her from loading her spaghetti with hot sauce. And in her distraction, she had given him her plate.

She felt the blood rush to her face.

"That's my plate," she told him, her cheeks burning. Jack raised a brow, questioningly, but didn't say anything as they swapped their plates.

"Much better," he muttered after the first bite from his own plate.

As for Misha, she just wanted to die right there and then.

They continued to eat in silence.

After they were finished, she collected the dishes and went back into the kitchen to wash them. Jack, in typical fashion, followed her in to throw the empty beverage cans into the trash can. She tried to ignore his presence but that didn't work as he decided to stand immediately behind after doing his self-assigned chore. After a while, she could feel his eyes boring into the back of her head. Normally, they would be talking about something, the American society, Batman, current affairs, literature- anything. But given the pretext of what had happened last night, and him being not-Joker right now, there was an awkward silence going on.

And Misha was fine with it.

She still had some shit to sort out in her fucked up brain.

But clearly he wasn't because not ten minutes into the blissful void of silence, he spoke up.

"Y'know, that spaghetti wasn't that bad."

She looked up from her washing, confused.

"What?"

"Yeah," he went on, "like, I wouldn't mind eating it every day. It was…  _good._  You could, like, make it for that cooking contest thing you're doing."

She didn't say anything to that, just nodded briefly before turning back to do her chore. Little did Jack know was that she was smiling at both what he said and his suggestion. She felt proud- Jack liked her cooking.

And yes, she'd make Chinese more often just because of that one reason.


	6. Misha's Not-Boyfriend Boyfriend

"And how did you do that?" Carlisle asked her, particularly amused.

Misha looked heavenwards before saying, "I made spaghetti. Realized that Chinese is really my only strong point. You know the rest."

"Well, I did tell ya," Iona said, looking positively smug about it, "you are a good chef."

Misha sighed but said nothing. It was true though- though Iona taking the full credit for it was not. It was actually Jack whose words convinced her to do so. Misha had almost given up after the disastrous cook up she'd had at Iona's.

After hours of burnt pudding, she had finally come into terms with the fact that she could never be a baker the hard way. And yes, even now- just thinking of it made her skin crawl.  _Was she really that thick?_

It were these habits of hers which her hate herself so much. Misha only saw the negative in things and ergo, herself as well. She was too tall for most girls her age which kind of made her stand out in crowds- and she hated the attention. She looked different too and even though it was due to her heritage and really out of her hands, Misha hated it. She hated how everyone would automatically realize that she was a foreigner, hated that there were not many Pakistanis or South Asians in general in Gotham, hated that there was nobody she could relate to, that there was really nobody she could talk to about her problems.

Except Jack- but even he didn't count, her brain told her, because he really knew nothing.

Misha was full of hate and she had her reasons. Her valid reasons, at that.

But the universe was strange and it caused her to deviate from her dark thoughts in the form of Iona as an intrusion.

"You know, you totally deserve the trophy," she was saying and Misha smiled a little- and that's also something which she did rarely in public- as she looked down at the shiny trophy she'd gotten from the Chancellor.

Her spaghetti had won first prize in the stupid cooking competition and even though her brain repeatedly told her that it was no biggy, she couldn't help but feel incredibly proud. After all, this could single handedly be one of the few extra curricular achievements she could boost about. Her mind took her back to the days when she actually had a lot more extra curricular achievements, back when she was younger and her parents were alive.

Her parents had always been very particular about her personal development and vocational skills. At the age of five, she'd been taught Arabic. The Alau'dins weren't Muslims but having come from a conservative, Muslim country had adopted what her father called "the better things of the Islamic civilization". Arabic had been one of them because of the language's rich vocabulary. At the age of seven, she'd been made to join a famous dance academy in Karachi where she'd been trained in the arts of classical dancing and singing. That was not all, on her tenth birthday, after much begging and pleading her parents had agreed to let her join a ballet class in Upper Manhattan and by her eleventh birthday, she'd been well-versed in five languages.

At school, she was part of the rowing team, chess club and even debates but all she'd ever wanted was to be a ballerina. Her parents weren't enthusiastic about it- they were quite conservative but Misha had hoped to persuade them. After all, after hours and hours of relentless begging, they'd finally let her take up gymnastics and boy, had it helped her ballet training by the ton.

Had her parents been alive, she'd probably gone on to some high end dance school in New York and would be well on her way to becoming a ballerina.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth and suddenly, all the pride and happiness drained out of her. She started to get up when Iona stopped her, "Where are you goin'? We've gotta celebrate!"

She put up a fake smile when she answered, "No, not today. I've got something to do."

But Iona was having none of it. "C'mon! It'll only take a while!"

"No," Misha insisted, this time a little louder to make a point. She was generally very soft spoken and hoped that her raising her voice would hit home or make Iona understand. Her friend let her off and Misha congratulated herself on a job well done and walked to her apartment.

Surprisingly, there was a strange smell- well, a strange good kind of smell- coming from her apartment. Misha rushed inside, thinking it was something she'd left on (because she was really  _that_  hopeless) and to her surprise, found Jack in the kitchen making something.

Misha took in the sight.

He looked... _good_ , she reckoned. He sure knew his way about the kitchen and she doubted it came from watching her clumsily attempt to make something edible. The domestic life certainly did suit him and whatever he was making really smelled nice, better than what she usually made. She wondered why he'd bothered.

"Hey!" he exclaimed cheerfully once he saw her. Misha frowned a little and muttered a "hey" back. "You won the competition? That's great!"

 _How did he kno-_  she wondered before realizing that she was still holding the trophy in her left hand with clear view for everyone to see.

"Uh- yeah," she nodded, stumbling over her words because that's what she'd been doing a lot around him lately. Stumbling and stuttering.

She realized that she hated the Joker without his makeup. And she'd once thought the makeup was annoying. The irony was not lost to her.

"Congratulations!" he said, making his way over to her. Before she could even register what was happening, Jack was hugging her and Misha froze. Clearly, he got the hint and moved back. Misha's mind had stopped working at that. This is not how she'd envisioned her day to turn out.

At least he had the courtesy to look a little embarrassed at his actions. "I'll... I'll go check the chicken," he said, quickly retreating into the kitchen.

Misha decided that she wouldn't mind that for the rest of the day.

* * *

Later that evening, they'd settled down on the couch playing a rather critical game of chess. All signs of the previous episode of awkwardness had vanished as Misha tried to think of a way to get his Queen before he did the same to hers. For a madman, he was very good at the game and not for the first time, she wondered if the crazy lunatic thing was just his image. Jack Napier was one smart guy.

 _And that's just how you like them too_ , her subconscious whispered and as usual, she chose to ignore it. She would not be letting her schoolgirl crush get in the way of what they were doing. Or their friendship. Or whatever it was that they had going.

After making another stalling move, Misha dared to glance at Jack as he looked at the chess pieces, thinking. He didn't look like the Joker. Not at all. The makeup really turned him into a different person. It was much easier to live with him as Jack Napier. He'd even become nicer to her since he'd stopped wearing it. She briefly wondered if he suffered from some kind of dual personality mental disorder or something but bit her tongue in case he'd get offended.

She really liked this version of the Joker and did not want to ruin this little fragile peace treaty they'd silently made.

The scars weren't really that prominent either, she noticed. Honestly, if he did the right kind of make up, it might actually not even be visible. She wondered if she ought to suggest it. It would be a good cover for him and then they'd be able to go out some time.

 _But why?_  her brain asked her.  _Why did she want that? So she could live some twisted fantasy she'd have of them? So she could pretend that they were in some kind of relationship? Yeah, right!_

And even though she knew it was a horrible idea, she went ahead with it anyway.

"You know," she began, trying to act as casually as possible, "umm, we could go out some time..."  _Fuck._  She immediately paused when she realized how it was sounding but really couldn't say anything else now. Jack was looking at her now. "...like to the park-" _stupid, stupid, stupid!_  "-or something like that."

He looked excessively amused and Misha reckoned that she'd done a great job in making a fool of herself when he spoke, "You're right but everyone would guess who I am."

She agreed. "But you could, ummm, wear some concealer or something to hide the scars or like, make them less noticeable?" It was a stupid idea really, she wondered why she even thought to bring it up in the first place but to her surprise, he nodded.

"I could try," he stated. "But no guarantees."

Misha wanted to kill herself by the sheer fact that she was actually looking forward to it.

* * *

"This is a bad idea," she said to him for the thirteenth time in the last few minutes since they'd left her apartment. It was Tuesday morning, exactly five days since she'd given him her ridiculous idea and here they were making way to the GSU. Well, Jack was dropping her but it was a test drive, he'd said to see if anyone recognized him. When she expressed her concerns over him getting caught, he'd assured her that he could take care of himself.

Misha had been reluctant of course. For, there was a tiny little problem that Jack seemed okay with ignoring- that he was still recovering. While, he'd stopped bandaging his leg, he still limped a little as he walked- it wasn't that noticeable but Misha being Misha could obviously notice it- the slight discomfort he felt as he walked due to the strain on his foot which up until last week had been in a nice cocoon of bandages, and no- she was not staring, it was  _obvious_  because she lived with him.

He was okay though, mostly, she thought as they boarded the bus to the university campus. Staring at their reflection in the window- Jack grinning a bit, clearly satisfied with the fact that no one could recognize him, looking very, very, very attractive (for a guy anyway, she tried reasoning but failed miserably) in a dark blue button down, dark jeans and converse and she in her usual Black Sabbath t-shirt and washed out black jeans and hi-tops- she thought that they looked like normal citizens of Gotham. She wouldn't be surprised if she found out that everyone thought they were in a relationship- and _no,_  this had nothing to do with her imagination- because really, they looked  _that_  normal.

"Calm down," he whispered into her ear, sending shivers down her spine though she'd die before she'd admit it. "Nothing's gonna happen."

She nodded meekly and when their stop came, allowed Jack to help her out of the bus (not that she needed any help but eh, who was she to complain?). They walked to the grounds together and only stopped at the steps which led to the entrance of the place.

"So I'll see you in a few?" she said.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Call me when you get back to the apartment would you?" she said and he let out an exasperated sigh.

"Christ Misha, if I didn't know better, I'd say you're paranoid!" he remarked.

"I'm not. I just-" she began to answer but was cut short when she heard the familiar high-pitched squeal. Misha froze.

_Oh no. This could not be happening. God, anything but-_

"Misha!" Iona exclaimed as she popped (because that's literally what Misha felt she did at that moment. She popped into existence, standing right beside her) out of nowhere. Carlisle was making his way over towards them and she was speaking in top speed, "I was wondering if you'd like to-" She stopped short when she noticed Jack.

"Oh hello," she said, a little too flirtatiously for Misha's taste, "and who're you?"

Jack smiled politely. "I'm Jack," he told her, "Misha's..." Their gaze locked for a second and Misha immediately knew. Every cherished of moment of peace she'd conjured for herself was about to go down the drain for he had that mischievous glint in his eyes which meant that he was about to do something horribly vicious to her- and in this case, he was about to ruin her time in uni. "...boyfriend."

She glared at him as he smirked, watching Iona's reaction unfold.  _"Boyfriend!?"_  she'd cried in shock before turning to her. "You never told me you had a boyfriend!" she said accusingly. Misha gritted her teeth and was about to speak up when Jack beat her to it.

"Oh don't get mad at her," he went on, "she doesn't really like telling people about us." Carlisle had joined them now. "She likes to keep me all to herself." If looks could kill, Jack Napier would be a dead man right now.

"Really?" Carlisle asked, clearly enjoying the fact that he'd finally gotten something dirty on her. "That doesn't sound healthy."

"Naw, it's fine," Jack told him, "you see, Misha's a really private person. She hates PDA and all that stuff. Don't blame her. I never said I didn't like the attention." He made it a point to smirk at her then and she responded by narrowing her eyes. Apparently, Jack had gotten the hint since the next thing he said was, "Well, nice talking to you. I'll see you around. I've got to go to work now. Come here you." He stepped forward to hug her and this time Misha responded if only to dig her fingernails into the back of his neck to hurt him.

"I'm gonna kill you," she hissed at him and he responded coolly before muttering, "I look forward to it." Then, he stepped back, gave her a final wave before saying good bye to her friends and walked off.

And that's when it occurred to her. The fucker knew that she liked him all along!

Just then, the bell rang and she started to walk off when someone grabbed her.

"I can't believe you didn't tell me you had a boyfriend!" she cried.

Misha groaned. This day could not  _possibly_  get any worse.


	7. Her Life As Jeannie Kerr

Her birthday was a day away and Misha was terrified.

For one thing, her plan of never letting Jack and Iona meet had failed miserably. After the day at the campus, Iona and Carlisle had decided to go to the movies and invited Jack too who very, very politely agreed to the proposition. She had initially suspected something because, really- why would the Joker want to go to the movies like a normal person but turns out, he'd just wanted to catch up. After that, they'd hit it off quite well. Instead of being the third wheel, Misha found herself actually having a date to most of Iona and Carlisle's excursions and no, he was most definitely _not_  her boyfriend.

Misha sighed over her economics homework, scrunching up the paper she'd messed horribly. To be honest though, she never really had made much of a plan but the fact remained- Iona and Jack were friends now and she was scared.

Like, really scared.

After all,  _who knew what the Joker and her crazy friend had planned out for her not- so- great big day?_

She was not looking forward to the answers she knew she would get too soon for her liking and so, for the time being, decided to focus on her assignment. The deadline was next week.

At least, that's what she wanted to do before the subject of her thoughts oh so rudely interrupted her.

"Misha," he said, from right behind her causing her to jump out of her seat in fear.

"God, Jack!" she cried, "You scared me! Don't ever do that again."

He grinned at her before speaking.

"You know, I've been thinking."  _And that's probably a bad thing,_  her brain said. "I've been thinking that we've never really explored the other side of Gotham."  _Yup, definitely a bad idea._  "It's always with Iona and Carl. Why don't we go out alone tonight ?"  _Ha ha, no- wait._ _ **What?**_

Misha blinked, speechless.  _Had she just heard what she thought she'd heard?_  She decided that she hadn't and it was the fact that she sort of  _liked_  the Clown Prince of Chaos that made her think so.

"Umm...I- I guess?" And then it occurred to her that she had some work to do. Like her economics assignment. "I mean, no- I have homework," she backtracked. "Maybe some other time?" She hoped she did not sound mean or anything.

Jack pouted briefly and then said, "Oh c'mon. What could a few hours do?"

Misha sighed. "No," she replied very, very firmly.

"Sure," he was smiling again and Misha frowned.

"I'm not going anywhere Jack," she voiced her opinion.

He said nothing to that and Misha felt the overwhelming need to slap that grin off his face.

* * *

She ended up going with him.

She did not why or how for the matter- just that after some sort of time lapse, she and Jack were standing outside this one movie theater on the other side of town.

It did not help that it was eleven o'clock in the night.

Or, that they were watching a horror.

Apparently the Joker liked gruesome murders, she thought before realizing that that was probably something to be worried about. After all, Jack  _was_  a little too excited for it.

She needn't fear though. His excitement had something to do with the movie being directed by his favorite director- _who knew the Joker had a favorite director!_  she mused- and no other sinister motives. At the moment, Jack was getting movie tickets and Misha was just- _well,_  looking around. There were not many people to begin with. But that was not something new. After all, it was pretty late and Gotham was a dangerous city. And that led her to realize that she was hanging out with the most dangerous villain Gotham. Not for the first time she questioned her sense of self preservation.

"You know," she said, turning towards him. Jack looked up at her as he handed the person behind the counter some change. "It's really late. We should probably get back."

Jack looked horribly amused.

"Oh come on," he said, stretching out the words a bit more than necessary.

Misha sighed. They walked towards the theater, stopping at the food stall to get popcorn.

"Fine, don't blame me if we get mugged or something," she grumbled.

"We won't," he told her very, very confidently. He handed her a bag of popcorn before whispering into her ear. "You're forgetting who you're with."

Misha's eyes widened only a tad bit, a shiver running down her spine. Jack smirked before walking into the theater. And that was  _before_  she realized what he'd said. Sometimes she wondered if she was really crazy. Like she knew she was crazy but like, clinc-

"Is he your boyfriend?" the girl behind the food stall interrupted her thoughts.

Misha glared at her. "No," she said through gritted teeth.

"Thank god!" she chimed and Misha could have killed her right then.

"Fuck off," she snarled before storming off into the theater.

Jack was already seated, fully engrossed into the stupid thing when she arrived.

"What took you so long?" he asked as though he had no idea what happened.

_The fucking bastard!_

She said nothing to that and instead turned her attention to the movie.

* * *

_"It's remarkably interesting how well you're doing in school," her aunt told her._

_Misha shrugged._

_"I'd say you're smart," she went on, "but we all know how_ public _schools are. I bet the teachers are slacking off and giving you easy grades yeah?"_

_That wasn't true. Misha spent entire nights studying sometimes. Not that her aunt would know. As far as she was concerned, Misha never got time to study what with all the chores she had to do._

_"Of course, Aunt Raina ( **A/N: it's pronounced Ray-na not Raina in a single go, stretch the 'RAI' part** )," she said instead. It left a bitter taste in her mouth._

_"I think I'll tell Jury to speak to your teachers, we don't want any half-assed incompetent teachers giving you easy A's," her aunt went on._

_"Yes," she nodded in agreement._

_"Good, now, go away I don't want to see you for the rest of the day."_

_She mumbled another 'yes' only to be reprimanded by her aunt before leaving the room. It was rare that her aunt let her out of the house and when she did, Misha would take full advantage of it. The park near the city center had become her favorite place in Gotham over the years. It was not Central Park- her favorite place in the world- but it kind of resembled it. She felt at home there. And she liked it._

_A quick jog later, she arrived at the park and went to sit on her spot by the little artificial lake. To her disappointment, she saw that the bench was occupied. Misha sighed before turning away, hoping to find another spot nearby. She didn't._

_It was Sunday so everyone had apparently made a point to visit the park that day. It took her some time but she finally found an empty seat at an isolated part hidden from the main part by bushes and trees. Misha settled into the faded bench and closed her eyes. And just like, all her worries seemed to wash away. She felt much lighter. She was at peace._

_It didn't last long though. Soon she heard the voice of a female calling her back to earth out of her sanctuary._

_"Is this seat taken?"_

_Misha opened her eyes to see a beautiful albeit simple woman, probably a few years older than her (she was only fifteen) maybe twenty two, with blond hair and blue eyes looking down at her. Normally, she would have rudely said_  yes, yes it was, what was it to her? _but the fact that she looked- well, she was- a few months pregnant that she bit her lips._

_"Not really," she mumbled, moving to the corner a bit giving her some place to sit._

_The woman smiled a radiant smile at her before settling down._

_"Thank you," she said to her and Misha muttered an 'anytime.'_

_They sat in silence for a while before Misha realized that the woman was fidgeting, probably wanting to talk to her. According her aunt, pregnant women did that and since Misha's aunt was her only motherly- figure, she decided to follow her advice and speak to her before she had an emotional breakdown or something- another thing which her aunt said that pregnant women were prone to._

_"Pardon me for interrupting," she said, "But you look rather...flushed?!" She face palmed herself for her poor choice of words. Maybe her aunt was right; they were slacking off at school._

_"I am," the woman said excitedly, "I'm wondering how to tell my husband about the gender of our child."_

_Misha smiled half-heartedly. It amazed her how people could have such trivial problems. Actually, she envied this woman at this very moment. Her biggest problem was this- Misha's was her entire future. She didn't know what her aunt and uncle were planning for her. For all she knew, she could be thrown out into the streets tomorrow._

_"Well, that must be exciting," she tried to be nice to her even though she wasn't feeling all that. Misha doubted she'd ever experience the wonders of parenthood. Not that she cared for the matter. After all, she was only but a teenager and under American law, she could not get married even if her aunt thought it was a good idea._

_"It is," the woman said, "but I want it to be special and I don't know how to. See, it's our first child and... what's your name?"_

_Misha wondered if her mother had been like this when she had her but decided against it. She liked to think her mother was like her, calm and collected. Because that's how she remembered her._

_"Misha," she told her._

_The woman smiled, "Jeannie." And that was the beginning of a very interesting conversation. In the course of twenty minutes, Misha had found more about Jeannie's life than she would have cared to know and by the end of her tale, she immensely envious of her._

_After all, the parallels between their lives were simply too_ parallel _for her liking- had Misha been like Jeannie she too might have ended up like her._

_Jeannie Kerr, or at least that's what she was called before she got married, was the only daughter of two adoring and rich parents. All her life, Jeannie had been given the love and attention someone with her looks and personality deserved and in high school had met her husband. He wasn't exactly from a rich background like Jeannie was but he made her happy and that's all that mattered to her and her family. So with her parents' blessing, she'd married him a year ago. They were expecting their first child now._

_"My husband's a chemical engineer," she told her, "but he's really more of a comedian. He recently quit his job at the plant to start his career. Things are really looking up and even though we've had to move to a different, more affordable part of town, he promised we'd move back once his career started properly. But I don't mind. It's a nice neighborhood- not the snobby rich one I grew up in. Why, our neighbors are so kind!"_

_Misha nodded in encouragement. The way Jeannie described him, Jack seemed like the perfect knight in shining armor, the Prince to every girl's fantasy and honestly, too good to be true._

_But he was real, she thought, and he was Jeannie's. Some people had all the luck._

_Not that she needed some kind of savior._

_She had long accepted that girls like her had no happy endings._

_"And I just went to the doctor's today," she said, "and he's told me that we're going to have a baby boy but I don't know how to tell Jack. Do you have any ideas?"  
_

_Misha thought real hard. "Well, I dunno," she finally admitted, "I mean, I've never had a boyfriend-" And probably never will._

_"Don't worry about that," Jeannie told her. "I met Jack when I was sixteen, how old are you?"_

_"Fifteen."_

_"Ah, you'll meet him your Romeo soon."_

_It was meant as a compliment but Misha couldn't help but thing that Romeo meant never. After all, hadn't the play ended tragically with Romeo and Juliet dying at the end?_

_"Yeah, I guess," she said anyway._

_Jeannie smiled at her once more and Misha decided that she ought to do something nice for her. She was so nice to her, nicer than most people and she felt as though she owed her something. Specially since she was feeling so utterly envious of her._

_"You know, maybe you could give him a present or something," she suggested. Jeannie looked ecstatic at the idea._

_"That's great- but what?"_

_"Does he have a favorite sport or something?"_

_"He does love a good game of baseball. He used to play baseball in high school."_

_"Why don't you do that?"_

_"That's brilliant! Thank you!" she cried happily just as her phone rang. Jeannie excused herself and talked to the person on the phone who incidently happened to be her husband._

_Misha watched her speak to him, watched her giggle like a schoolgirl at something he said, blush every now and then and couldn't help but feel jealous. She wished it was her in Jeannie's position with a perfect, happy, normal life ahead of her and yet at the same time wished she'd never end up like her. It was a strange feeling but it was there nonetheless._

_Misha wished she was and at the same time wished she wasn't Jeannie Kerr at the same time._

_Some people had all the luck._

"Misha!" Jack yelled, pulling her out of her sleep.

Misha blinked, confused by her surroundings for a minute before it all came back to her.

She was in a movie theater.

With Jack.

It was probably late.

"Sorry, fell asleep," she apologized, standing up. The entire room was empty not that there had been a lot of people to begin with.

"Duh," he said, unamused. "C'mon, we've got places to be." She said nothing and let him drag her out of the movie theater, hardly aware of the food stall girl glaring at her and take her where ever he wanted to. She did not even think that he was the Joker and could probably murder her.

Her thoughts fell on the dream she'd had.

It was not a dream, per say. More like a memory. After all, she had met one Jeannie Kerr when she was fifteen. They had moved to Gotham and had lived there for a full year before moving back to New York and one Sunday morning she had met her at the park. Back then- maybe even now to this day- she'd been jealous of Jeannie Kerr. In her darkest hours, she would wish she was Jeannie that some angel, God, demon whoever, whatever existed would make her Jeannie or at least let her have a life like Jeannie's. The perfect life.

Truth be told, she had not thought about her since she left her uncle's house.

But then, she'd given up- still had- all hopes of achieving a life like Jeannie's. She had been right. Some people did have all the luck and probably deserved it too.

She wondered why she'd even dreamed of it after such a long time.

So lost she was in her thoughts that she did not notice Jack steer into a very familiar lane and into Iona's house. It was only when the door opened and everyone shouted, "SURPRISE!" that it occurred to Misha that they'd set her up.

For a surprise party.

Misha sighed, glaring at Jack, who was grinning at her, hands in the air surrendering. "I'm so sorry, I had to do it!"

She reckoned that she wouldn't be like Jeannie but she would at least enjoy her own birthday.

"It's okay," she said, before pulling him into a hug. "Thank you so much!"

"Hey! I planned too!" Iona shouted much to the amusement of everyone present (a lot of people from her classes at university were here, she noticed who seemed very happy at the prospect of surprising her and having a party-  _probably that,_  she thought) and thus causing everyone to laugh.

"Yeah, you too!" she exclaimed, before moving to hug her too.

Yes, she _would_  enjoy her birthday party.


	8. Death In The Family

"So Jack, huh?" Emma asked her, as they walked together towards the banquet (if you call lots of cheese pizza, soda, fries, burgers and a bunch of fat food that is) table. Misha said nothing as she glanced over her shoulder to see the Joker talking to a bunch of people, mainly girls who were listening to him attentively. Apparently he was popular with the ladies.

Not that it meant much to her.  _Right?_

"What about him?"she asked her, cautiously as she helped herself to a can of diet coke- God knew she'd needed it.

"Nothing," she said quickly, "He's really good with people yeah?" Misha turned to see him still talking and making the girls laugh. She wondered how they'd feel if they found out that he was really a mass murderer who wore warpaint. Definitely not super chirpy like they were right now.

"You have no idea," she muttered.

"How come he doesn't attend GSU?" Emma inquired.

"He didn't attend GSU," she told her, "also, he's a graduate."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You sure know a lot about him," Emma said and Misha wondered which rock it was that she had been living under.

"Yeah."

"Are you two dating?"  _Ah, there came the obvious question._  Misha almost welcomed it.

_Almost._

"Nah, we're just friends," she said. She'd said that around a hundred times tonight and for some reason she felt better, and no it had nothing to do with her being jealous.

She wasn't jealous. Why would she be jealous? She had no reason to be jeal-

"Misha, over here!" Iona called her. Misha thought that it was becoming a habit of hers, to interrupt her thoughts and what not. She decided she wouldn't hold it against her. It made her stop thinking. God knew how often she'd started doing that since she had met Jack.

 _Which is why you should get rid of him,_  hissed her conscious,  _after all, he's better now. Do you really want to get arrested for harboring a terrorist? Or is having a ridiculous crush on him worth the arrest?_

Misha shook the thought away as she walked to her friend who was hanging onto her boyfriend for support because  _really_ \- it was just like Iona to get drunk quickly.

"Mish!" she exclaimed a little louder than necessary.

Misha rolled her eyes at her much hated nickname. "What?" she asked.

"There's a call for you!"

She frowned. She did not know anyone who would call her. "Really?" she asked for confirmation. Maybe Iona was mistaking her for someone else. Besides she did not know anyone who would want to contact her through Iona because, well, to most people, Iona didn't even exist.

Misha made her way through the crowd of people, further away from Jack and everyone she knew, towards the kitchen where the phone was kept on the counter.

"Hello?"

_"Is this Jon Alau'din's daughter speaking?"_

Misha froze.  _How the fuck had he found her?_

"Y-yes," she said, hating how her voice still trembled around him. She never knew why, but her uncle's lawyer always scared her. The mere presence of the man terrified her. She would get this strange, metallic taste in her mouth whenever she heard his name and shivers would run down her spine (and not in a good way) and her skin would break out into goosebumps. It was a weird, unnerving feeling. And Misha liked avoiding him just because of that one reason. For his part, he never seemed much interested in what she did anyway. Which is why him calling her- well, making an effort to look for her, _unusual._

_Why did he want to speak her anyway?_

_"Good," he said, "I''m handing the phone to Daniel Harwinton."_

Misha frowned. Daniel Harwinton was an old family friend- actually, he was her dad's best friend. She had not seen him in more than a decade since her parents' demise actually. He had initially wanted to take her in but her uncle and aunt had convinced her not to do so. Last time she'd seen him, he was moving to England with his family.

_"Hello? I'm Daniel Harwinton, your father's best friend. Do you remember me Misha?"_

She was no reason for her forget him. Uncle Dan, she'd called him once upon a time. "I do," she said. He'd never contacted her before after he moved to England. "Don't wanna sound rude or anything but- why're you contacting me?"

He laughed at that.  _"Straight to the point,just like your father."_ Then _, "Uhh...well, I apologize for calling you at such an, urm, less than appealing hour."_

She winced. She knew Iona had picked up the phone. She hadn't expected it to be so awkward. Oh well.

 _"And normally, I wouldn't go through such lengths to contact you,"_  he went on. Misha couldn't help but roll her eyes at that.  _Well, duh._  No one made an effort to contact her.  _Ever. "But I think- I ought to get to the point. Your cousin has expired an hour ago and I-well, because Sara was-"_

Misha's heart sunk. "Di-did you say Sara?"Sara had been the only one in her horrible extended family who saw her more than an orphan meant to be a burden on them. She'd been a friend but Misha had been so-  _well, still was but at least she had friends now and gave people a chance_ \- bitter back then that she'd tried to stop her from that by rampaging through her room to annoy her aunt and in the process force her to force Sara from stop making an effort towards her.

It had worked. After that day, Sara was forbidden from talking to her.

 _"Why, yes- I- I'm terribly sorry for your loss,"_  he went on quickly, _"but I'd really like you to get here. We've got to talk. Your aunt's hysterical. I feel that- having the entire family over would be- erm, good."_

It seemed like he was trying to get her to listen, convince her-  _as though she didn't care a bit about her cousin,_  she couldn't help but think- but Misha's mind was already made.

"What's the nearest flight to New York?" she asked him.

Daniel handed the phone to her uncle's lawyer.

And  _no,_  she was too numb to feel scared of him at that moment.

* * *

"Let me get this straight," Jack said as he watched her frantically hop about her room haphazardly throwing random articles of clothing into her suitcase. "You're going to New York."

"Yup," she said, looking through her wardrobe for black clothes- to no one's surprise, that was the only color she could find.

"Why?"

"It's none of your business."

"Misha."

"Seriously, none of your business."

"Uhh... no," he said, flipping the top of the case over just as she put in a pair of jeans.

"What?" she shrieked. "I'm not going to take you with me if that's what you want."

Jack narrowed his eyes. "I didn't want that but now that you mention it- yes, that's exactly what I want," he said, "because I'm worried. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," she said through gritted teeth, "I just have to go to New York."

She turned away to get on with her packing but he grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to sit down on her bed. "Don't test me," he warned her, "I just want to know. Why are you going so suddenly? It's the middle of the week."

"Because it's important," she insisted, the last of her resistance breaking down but she tried to maintain it, "stop it Jack- I swear I'll-"

"What?" he challenged her, "You'll what?"

"I'll- I'll-" she racked her brain for a threat but found nothing. All she could think about was her cousin and how she did not want to think about her. Yet. "UGH! Stop it! Just stop it! I don't want to tell you!"

Jack looked at her closely, somewhat amused by how frustrated she was getting. Her entire face had started to redden. If he didn't know better. He'd say something bad had happened to her.

"Fine," he shrugged, knowing full well that she'd tell him anyway. He'd broken her resolve anyway. So without another word, he padded off to the living room and seated himself on the couch waiting for her to approach. And true to his deduction, there she was fifteen minutes later. She was quiet at first, like she usually was but then after a moment, snuggled up close to him.

"I'm sorry for acting like an absolute lunatic with trust issues," she said softly. Jack smiled smugly.

"But Misha," he said obnoxiously, "you  _are_  an absolute lunatic with trust issues."

She glared at him. "Sometimes I wonder why I'm even letting you stay here," she grumbled.

"Because you're a human being and you like helping other human beings," he quoted her.

She sighed. "Whatever Jack."

He grinned at her.

"You know you're really good at manipulating people," she informed him.

"Of course I am, darlin'. I am the Joker."

She said nothing to that. Instead, she told him about what had happened.

"My cousin's died," she told him, "and I've got to go to New York because it's some tradition or religious thing or something I don't know that you've got to have the entire family together before burying someone to pay final respect or something."

He listened intently.

"It's kind of like a family thing but I guess- since you insist," she was interrupted by his outburst, "I do not!" but then continued anyway, "you can come too. My dad's best friend's there too so I don't think it's exclusively family."

"Is this... _cousin_  close to you?" he asked her.

"No," Misha answered completely emotionless.  _Too emotionless,_  he noticed. Usually when she talked about her family, she was either uninterested or disgusted. _Or bitter, but she was usually bitter about a bunch of things,_  he reckoned.

Silence stretched over them for a few minutes before she broke the silence.

"Okay, so you'll be attending a funeral at my family," she said casually, "do you know anything about a Pakistani funeral?"

Jack just blinked at her in response.

"Knew it,"she sighed. "Okay here's what you need to know. Grab a paper and pencil."

"What? Why?"

"Trust me, you'll need it."

He did.

* * *

Six hours later, at the dawn of the new day, they were walking out of a private plane, courtesy of Daniel Harwinton to be promptly (and in Misha's case, rather enthusiastically) by the man himself.

Uncle Dan, as she'd called him once and briefly wondered if she still should call him that, was smiling and very ecstatic to see her.

"Misha!" he explained, once he saw her and Jack- well, her mainly. His eyes were fixed on her.

He hadn't changed much, she noticed. Of course, his hair was more streaked with white now then it was before, not to mention the laugh lines along his face but for most of the part, he was still the same. He even behaved like that. He did the customary, half hug and kiss on the cheeks that was their native culture's greeting style without any reluctance.

"My, my, you've changed!" he went on, "I don't see any hint of Char in you anymore! You look just like Jon!"

She smiled awkwardly. "You haven't changed much either...uncle," she said.

"Me? Please, I'm done," he rolled his eyes over dramatically, "between you and me I think Brenda's had enough of me already."

She found herself laughing at that quite unexpectedly. It seemed as though nothing had changed, at least that's how Daniel made her feel. It lifted some weight off her shoulders to know that her father had better taste in friends. She would be meeting a lot of her parents' family and friends during the funeral and Daniel's behavior made her feel a little- if not much- confident about the affair.

Daniel's attention went to Jack and Misha felt herself freeze. It was only then that she realized that he was probably the only man in the world who could very well be the most fatherly figure she'd ever have in her life. God, it was practically like introducing her boyfriend to her father!

But, of course, she was overreacting. Daniel said nothing, there were no threats or anything because despite how he was, he wasn't really her father and she was an adult now; she could do whatever the hell she wanted. No one had the right to stop her. She watched as Jack and Daniel shook hands.

"Jack," Jack introduced himself, "I'm a friend."

Daniel wasn't exactly all serious and smiled as he said, "I'm her uncle Daniel, you can call me Dan."

"I will," he went on smoothly, "she mentions you guys a lot."

That seemed to brighten Daniel's mood as he broke into a good natured chuckle. "Really? That's good, maybe you can convince her to call often?"

"Oh, I will," Jack agreed and Misha knew that she needn't worry about those two getting along well.


	9. Blame

"You never visit us anymore," Dina exclaimed rather loudly as she pulled Misha into a hug. From where she was, Misha could see Jack grinning evilly at her before turning to talk to Howard, Dina's fiancé.

"I never visited you guys," she stated as a matter-of-factly.

"Jeez, Misha," she rolled her eyes, "when did you get so frank? By the way, how are you? How's Gotham? Is it dangerous? Have you run into Batman?"

Misha sighed. Honestly, she didn't remember Dina being so much like... _Iona._  But then again, she didn't quite remember much of her childhood so maybe she had always been this way and she just hadn't noticed it.

Until now.

The difference between her most particular female friend from college and the equivalent of a childhood best friend was uncanny.  _What was it with her and being friends with chirpy, easy go lucky people?_  she wondered. Maybe she just had that sort of a personality that attracted such people.

Misha did not know. But she would like to, she decided.

"No, how can I run into a caped vigilante?" she asked, "I'm not some crazy villain or something."  _Though I do happen to know one,_  she thought glancing at Jack once more.

Apparently he and Howard were best friends now. They were sharing a joke apparently. Misha made a mental note to remind Jack about the ethos of a funeral. Even though she hadn't exactly met her aunt and uncle yet and was staying with the Harwinton's which made her doubt whether her presence would be appreciated at all but knowing Daniel, he probably had a plan up his sleeve. That still didn't explain why she had not been sent to meet her relations immediately. Daniel had told her that she'd see them the day after at the procession. And then it occurred to her.

He was _saving_  her from the attention she'd get if she went to her relations' home immediately. There would probably be a throng of people there, consoling or just being there for the sake of it and the sudden appearance of Jon Alau'din's only living and always away daughter would cause a lot of drizzle. Not for the first time, she found herself appreciating Uncle Dan's quick thinking.

"So, how is everyone?" she asked Dina, hoping to make conversation.

"We're all fine," she responded, "but really- what about you?"

Misha frowned. "What about me?"

"I wrote you letters every day since we moved to London. You never answered."

"What letters?" she asked her, seriously surprised.

"You never got them?"

"No," she replied honestly.  _But I think I know who got them,_  went unsaid.

"That's strange."

"Yeah," she shrugged instead, "must've gotten lost or something."

"All of them?"

"Just my luck," Misha mused and two shared a quiet respectable chuckle.

_The proper way._

Like one does at such an event.

Not that Jack knew much about social stuff anyway.

He was the very definition of not doing just that. He was the Joker. Misha realized that she sort of hated that.

* * *

The next day came far too quickly for Misha's liking and soon she, Jack, Dina and Howard were in one of Daniel's cars, making way towards her uncle and aunt's penthouse apartment in Upper Manhattan. For some reason, she had butterflies in her stomach. Well, she did know why but still. It was ridiculous. She was behaving like a child. Pretending to be one what with her nerves and the sinking feeling of impending doom that had surfaced in her stomach. It occurred to her that she had not been to her paternals' since she left for college.

Her uncle and aunt had been more than eager to get rid of her and so had never bothered to invite her over for Easter or Christmas break. Not that she cared. She knew very well that her relations did not care for her. They had never bothered with her presence and frankly would be least bothered if she'd died or something.

And that could very well happen to her, she realized, since she was currently bunking with the most dangerous man in all of Gotham, if not the entire America. Not that he was that bad, she noted as she stole a peak at Jack who was sitting beside her.

Dina and Howard were talking about something, Jack would talk occasionally, but Misha remained silent. Normally, people would think she was being rude or reclusive but apparently these guys knew her since forever (Dina and Jack anyway. She didn't know about Howard though.) so this was apparently normal behavior for her.

As they entered the vicinity of her relations' house, her heart did a double and began to pump blood faster. She felt sick- nauseous, to say the least.

She did not understand why though. After all, there really was no reason for her to feel so-  _well,_  down. But she was just that. Feeling down and all that jazz. She felt sick to her stomach and horribly exposed for some reason. It was a strange feeling and at that moment, it felt familiar. Just like, as thought she'd been through this very situation before. Almost as though it had happened before. Like _deja vu._

_Her parents are over protective and that is a fact she has grown up with. At twelve, she is still not allowed to visit anyone after three(which does not quite make sense since school ends at three) and can still not go to sleepovers._

_Not that that's problem, Misha does not exactly have friends in school. Well, that's not exactly true- Dina is her friend but she is in a different year, as are Karin, Ali. Zeus, Fahad, Ophelia, Lexi and they don't count as school friends because Misha has known them all her life and because of thTateven knows a bunch of high schoolers and Kylie is immensely jealous because of that but the fact remains: she knows them because of her parents._

_Outside the segregated little bubble she lives in, she has no real friends._

_But that isn't the point._

_The point is, her parents have always been over protective. Over protective to the extent that at least one of them makes it a point to pick her up from school._

_Today though, neither is there. Instead, her father's chauffeur, Mr Yang is here and even though she says nothing about it, she can't help but think it-_

Someone squeezed her left hand reassuringly. "Relax," Jack whispered into her ear, causing her to snap back into reality. Misha blinked to find that the car had stopped and Dina and Howard, well, they were nowhere to be seen.

"It's going to be fine," he went on.

Misha frowned.

"What?" she asked him rather stupidly looking around. The place seemed familiar. _We're here?_  she thought, surprised.  _That was fast_.

"You're freaking out Misha," he told her, "Dina and Howard have gone ahead. You were completely shell shocked. What's the matter?"

She took a deep breath. "It's nothing," she shrugged. "I just- yeah, nothing."

It was his turn to frown. "Something's going through your head," he pointed out.

Misha shook her head. "It's been a while since I've been here," she explained, "I'm not sure if I can do this. Like, we're about to go into a house full of visiting rich people who're using this funeral as a social event. None of the people there care about Sara."

"And you do?" he asked clearly referring to the fact that she hadn't bothered to tell him about their history.

"I dunno know," she shrugged, motioning for him to open the door so they could exit the car. He did and helped her out as well. Misha did not understand why he was being so nice to her.

"I mean, maybe I should," she went on, "She is family, yeah?"

Jack looked sceptical. "Your uncle and aunt are family too Misha," he informed her, "And you don't exactly..." She glared at him causing him to stop.

"Let's just get this over with," she said and Jack nodded in agreement. Together, they made their way towards her relations' fifth floor penthouse apartment. Misha wasn't particularly excited. The front door was opened as it usually ought to be in such gatherings and to her, it might as well be the doorway to hell.

She felt strange and alone. Inside in the front sitting room thing her aunt had going there, were a bunch of people. Well, millions of them actually sitting or standing in various spots. She saw a few familiar faces but was adamant on ignoring them, she had to see her aunt and uncle first. She owed Sara that much at the very least. Walking up the stairs, she noticed more and more people, a lot of them unfamiliar and wondered how much her uncle and aunt's social circle had expanded over the years. Unlike her parents who were very particular about the people they were friends with (her dad liked loyal and non-judgmental, humble people), her uncle and aunt were friends with anyone who was rich enough. It kind of bothered her growing up but now, she really didn't care. Like, of course, she was disgusted by some people's behavior but that was life. People would be dicks no matter what happened and Misha had learned that the hard way.

She was debating exactly where to go when Ophelia- another family friend she hadn't seen since forever- appeared.

"She's in her room," she told her, her eyes red clearly due to crying. Misha nodded allowing her to guide her to Sara's bedroom. She briefly wondered why she hadn't ventured there herself because that's where a bunch of people were standing which only meant that her aunt and uncle were there. And someone, presumably her aunt, was crying very loudly.

Her aunt was sitting on Sara's bed crying. "Be nice," Ophel whispered, before stepping forward to hug her aunt.

"Aunt Rene?" she whispered, softly, "Misha's here to see you."

Her aunt, Rene short for Romaysah, looked up immediately, her eyes wide. She looked... _shaken,_ to see the least. Misha took this as a queue to walk up to her and hug her. She did that but her aunt wasn't responding. She hadn't expected her to. Not that she knew what to expect. Her aunt wasn't exactly her biggest fan. She never was. But really, Misha thought, with a little annoyance, she ought to be a little more consid-

"What are you doing here?" she asked brashly.

Misha stepped back, looking at Ophelia who looked equally confused.

"Aunt Ren-" she started but was cut off.

"Why are you here?" her aunt cried, her voice reaching alarmingly high notes.

"I'm here to consol-" Misha tried to speak but was interrupted by her once more.

"Don't you dare come near my family!" she shrieked and that's where Ophelia stepped in.

"Aunt Rene! Misha's here to honor Sara's memory," she reasoned, sitting next to the crazy- because that's what she seemed to Misha just then: a crazy lady.

"No!" she shrieked, alerting the many, many visitors that were crowded in and out of the room. "Don't bring her near my family! She's a witch.  _She's cursed my family!Look what she's done to Sara."_ With that, she began wailing loudly causing the many- useless to Misha's eye- people to immediately console her.

Misha stood there, not for the first time in her life and saw her aunt place the blame on her once again. It wasn't new. Whenever something bad happened in her family, she'd blame Misha. What disgusted her more was that even now, her aunt couldn't own up and see the truth. She just had to place the blame on her.  _Like every damn time._

She was beyond angry.

All her life, she had wanted to be accepted by her aunt and uncle. To be treated like family. Of course, it no longer mattered for her but someone had died for fuck's sake! At least her aunt could honor Sara's memory particularly when Sara had hated the way they treated her.

Her temper shot up at that and yet, _and yet,_  she felt immensely guilty. For she had often wished that something bad would happen to her aunt's family. Of course, it had never been Sara who she wished evil to befall upon but it was there. The metallic feeling in her mouth was growing.

 _No,_  she reasoned with herself,  _this is not your fault. There is no such thing as good or bad in the world and you of all the people ought to know that._

And so she stormed out of the room, wanting to leave this ridiculous excuse of a funeral and family. Forever.

"Misha, Misha!" Ophelia called after her as she walked down the hall. "What?" she snapped, turning around and in the process rolling her eyes at the onlookers who honestly looked more interested in family drama than the fact that a person had died.  _Why were they here anyway?_  she wondered.

"Aunt Rene isn't feeling alright," she said, "she's distraught. Sara's-"

"Nope," Misha corrected her, "she's behaving like she always does. Tell me when she gets over herself."

And with that, she walked away.


	10. Somebody That She Used To Know

In an ideal world she would have walked away from her uncle and aunt's house with Jack and never come back. Unfortunately the world was far from ideal so she was forced (quite literally by one Daniel Harwinton) to stay back and well, go ahead with the funeral.

Misha's pride had refused to do so. She was not going back into the house of a woman who publicly deemed her a  _witch_  for god's sake JUST because she couldn't handle her daughter's death. Misha saw red. Her aunt had always been one to make fun of spiritual people which was particularly offensive to Misha because her mother had been spiritual to the extent that when she had died, there had been a set of instructions on exactly how to go on about with the funeral service. While Misha wasn't religious, spiritual or whatever else people were these days, she at least could respect people's beliefs. Her aunt, on the other hand, wasn't. She was rude, uncouth and plain ignorant.

So the fact that she turned to her and accused her of witchcraft was equal times hilarious and outrageous. Hypocrites weren't Misha's favorite people and her aunt was topping that list.

But no- Daniel Harwinton refused to let her go and save her the misery.

"But why?" she demanded of the man for the hundredth time.

"Misha," he said, "you have to. You owe Sara that much."

"And doesn't Rene owe her anything?" she asked, "Like- I dunno know. Respect for someone she always wanted to be friends with?"

Dan said nothing because that was a well known story.

He sighed before running a hand through his hair.

"It's not just that you know," he admitted.

Misha raised a brow. "What?"

"Have you not noticed your uncle and cousin?" he asked her.

"They're not around," she responded not entirely sure where the conversation was leading.

"Your uncle and cousin are in Russia," he told her.

"So?"

"Adam's run into a bit of trouble," he said.

"Doesn't he always?"

"Yes, but this one is rather... complicated."

"How?"

"He's not coming back."

Misha narrowed her eyes.  _"What?"_

"The Russian authorities found him doing some rather..." he settled for answer, "questionable business."

"And...?"

"They're wanting to execute him."

Her eyes widened. "What did he do?"

"I have no idea,"Dan admitted, "some drug dealing and weapons supply to Chechnya."

"Chechnya? Why?" she cried. "That's absurd. Is he crazy? What's uncle doing?"

"He's trying to get them to let him go. But from what I heard from Jury last night, it's not happening."

"But they can't do that," she said, "can they? How is the American Embassy letting them do th-"

"That's also where things get complicated," Dan interrupted.

"He's not American." Misha snapped her eyes closed. Of all the stupidities she knew her uncle capable of, this had to be the most incredible of all. "And Pakistan doesn't exactly have the best relationship with Russia."

"We've been living in America for over a decade," she said, "and he never bothered to apply for a Green Card?"

"You didn't either," Dan pointed it.

"Yeah, I didn't have the money for it now did I?" she remarked bitterly.

"They didn't because that would disqualify them from inheriting the business."

"What?" Misha could have laughed. "Seriously? Who was this?"

"Your grandfather."

"Wow, that's brilliant. Took him a million years to get patriotic didn't it?"

"Misha," he chastised her.

"What? It's true. I never wanted any of this," she told him. "I signed papers renouncing my claim. Even before that, the last thing I cared about is the family business. Why should I? I had better things to do. Please don't tell me that-  _Jesus Christ!_  You can't possibly view me as a threat can you?"

"They did," Dan said.

Misha took a deep breath. "So Sara's dead. Adam's dying. What's gonna happen to the great,  _much- fought- over family business?_ "

Dan gave her a look.

"No," she said, "I won't. I hate that money. I hate everything about it! You can't possibly make me inherit something I don't want."

"You don't have a choice."

And then it hit her.

"This is why you brought me here," she realized. "This is why you bothered! I wondered why anyone would care about me after such a long time-  _God, really?"_

He said nothing and Misha found that she was getting frustrated by the second.

"Why did you do this Uncle Dan?" she asked him. "I don't want anything of this."

"Because it had to be you, I owed my friend this much," he stated. "You think I left without thinking about you. Misha, everyone knew the business belonged to you and Rene and Jury couldn't take it. I wanted to take you to London, I wanted you to grow up learning the essentials and maybe..."

"... become a part of your family," she finished for him.

He nodded but said nothing. But Misha didn't really want him to say anything. She had hoped that maybe, some day someone would tell her that the plans her father whispered into her ear as she was put to sleep, the ideas on which her childhood was built upon wasn't all a lie. And it wasn't. Daniel had wanted to go ahead with those plans.

The only ones that stopped him were her uncle and aunt.

"It didn't happen though did it?" she asked him. "Nothing happened the way it should have."

"I should have gone to court," he admitted, "I should have had them inspect the will because no where had Jon ever told me that Jury would get the business. Jury was meant to be a keeper. Not the owner. And then he just died. My business collapsed. I owed millions to people I couldn't repay. I was ruined! And then Jury made me the head of the European division. I was jobless and had a family. I couldn't say no."

_Oh. So that's where it went wrong._

Her uncle was an evil man.

"So when are the lawyers coming over?" she asked him.

Daniel frowned, even though his face did brighten a bit at the idea. "You're going ahead with it?"

"No," she said. "I'm going to end the very root of it. I'm going to sell the business and I don't care what happens to me or anyone else."

* * *

It was a pleasant day. A far too pleasant day for a funeral that is. The sun was out, bright and happy which was unusual for New York, she knew.

They were all dressed smartly and Jack looked a little too good in the black suit they'd bought the day before. She looked good too, she thought, better than usual. She wasn't wearing one of her usual hipster/emo themed clothes. She was wearing a dress. A nice, decent, humble knee length dress with long sleeves and respectably high black heels. Her hair was in a bun.

Everyone around her looked glamorous and it sickened her.

The conversation she had with Uncle Dan the previous night was fresh in her head. The priest started the sermon. Turns out Sara had converted to Christianity. It was rather amusing considering the amount of fuss her aunt had made when Misha had given up all forms of religion for atheism because, simply put, she didn't believe in God. She wasn't sure, nor could she fathom the idea of some divine being watching over everyone in the entire universe. It seemed too good to be true. Specially because the world just wasn't that.

Good.

Now she was not so sure. Misha just wanted to be a good human being.

She hadn't accomplished it yet and since every religion wanted people to be good human beings before that, she wasn't particularly enthusiastic about embracing a religion.

She only hoped that her parents wouldn't judge her for it. Especially if there really was something such as heaven and hell and the afterlife.

God knows she'd go to hell then.

The sermon finished and they went through the funeral.

She didn't feel anything while that happened. People were giving speeches and god knows what else but there was nothing which she wanted to say or do. She felt numb. And bored. A ton of bored. Beside her, Jack stifled a yawn and she made it a point to discreetly elbow him in the ribs.

"What?" he mumbled and she replied by glaring at him.

Jack made it a point not to speak to her hence forth.

* * *

They were back at her uncle and aunt's soon after having a sort of get together, "honoring" her memory, as Dina had put it. They were not. Instead, everyone was talking, laughing in hushed tones as they caught up after the day's activities.

Misha's mood deteriorated substantially at that. It did not make sense to her. They were having a black tie party by the looks of it. At the far end of her aunt's sitting room was a banquet table and people would go there and eat. It wasn't different from her birthday party apart from the fact that there were no drunk college people around making a lot of noise. She was appalled.

Jack still was not talking to her and was engaged in deep conversation with Howard over god knows what.

Dina was nowhere to be seen either.

Sighing, she resigned to her fate and made her way to the banquet table to grab a cup of tea- she'd need it, she reckoned.

She briefly wondered who planned the entire ordeal since her aunt was in a state of turmoil (aka blaming all her problems on her) and her uncle was in Russia. She wondered how her aunt would react to Adam's execution and reckoned that it would be blamed on her as well. Speaking of Adam, she ought to speak to Daniel about the company's lawyers. She had set her mind to selling it and donating everything she got to charity.

A part of her thought it was a ridiculous idea though. She knew she could live off the rest of her life luxuriously without having to work a day if she kept whatever she got from selling the money and investing it but a larger part of her wanted nothing to do with the money that had caused her misery.

And besides, knowing her parents and grandparents, they'd want her to do that. They were good people who deserved the company. Misha was not. It was only fair that she do away with it all and stop herself from becoming like her aunt and uncle who'd cared more about money than morals.

For some reason the thought brought her relief and she vaguely wondered if she could be in peace with herself when she actually went ahead with the plan. She already knew the kind of opposition she'd get from everyone: her uncle, the lawyers, members of board. Knowing that the majority of the people on the board would be men and Pakistani _and_  the kind of people her uncle hung out with made her queasy. They'd never take her seriously.

"Are you making more than one cuppa?" An unfamiliar voice asked her from her right. Misha turned to find Framton Harwinton standing next to her.

"N-no," she said moving aside. She watched him pour himself a cup of tea with a familiar ratio of milk and sugar. Fram adored her father. He had started working as her father's PA a year before he died. She hadn't known he was here.

"Fram?" she asked rather stupidly.

He looked at her, his brows knitted together in a mixture of confusion and doubt. "Yess," he answered. She could practically see the wheels turn in his brain as he tried to decipher who she was. "Do I know you?" he asked her. She didn't expect him to recognize her. She had been, after all, twelve when he last saw her. A hundred and ten things, primarily puberty, had happened since they'd last met.

"It's Misha,"she told him and his face broke into one of awe and disbelief.

"Seriously?" he asked her in clear bewilderment before remembering himself. "I mean- uhh, you've changed kid."

She smiled sheepishly. "Well, duh."

"Oh wow," he exclaimed, "I wasn't expecting to see you. I thought you'd be married or something to someone in Dubai or somewhere."

 _"Excuse you?"_  she cried, thoroughly amused at the idea. "What era are you in?"

He smiled his close mouthed smile. "Got you!" he said, "You might've gotten all grown up but you'll still too thick!"

She found herself laughing properly at that one. "It's good to know that you haven't changed," she told him sincerely.  _Unlike everyone else,_  she thought.

He said nothing to that. "So what's going on?" he asked her instead.

"Well, I'm working on my degree at Gotham State University,"she replied.

"Ah, what are you doing?"

"Business Administration." But he wasn't paying attention anymore. A little girl of about five had run up to them. She was an adorable thing, with curly, blond hair styled in two pony tails and was wearing a black dress.

"Daddy!" she cried. "Aunt Din is annoying me!"

"Really?" Fram looked thoroughly amused as he picked her up. "That's rather mean of her." Then he turned to Misha. "This is my daughter, Melanie," he introduced her.

She smiled and greeted her. She was probably four or something which made her wonder why Dan had said that he'd've liked her to be part of his family. Fram was married and he didn't have any other sons. Had he planned to adopt her?

"And where's her mother?" she asked him once the little girl had managed to wrestle out of her father's grasp and ran god knows where.

He looked sort of upset when he answered, "She died in childbirth."

Now that, she hadn't expected.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized immediately.

Fram shrugged. "Eh, it's okay. Happened like million years ago. I've moved on."

She wanted to ask more but decided against it. The conversation had ended. "I'll see you around?" she asked him, deciding that it was well past time that she went back to find Jack and get the hell out of here.

"Definitely," he said sincerely.

She did a silly little wave before disappearing into the crowd to find Jack. She wanted to leave New York as soon as possible. There was too much death and memory in the city and she could cope with only so much.


	11. The Talk

The school year was at a close and the people of Gotham were rejoicing the fact that the Joker had not been seen in months. Jack seemed least bothered about that, Misha thought one day as she returned home from uni. It was the last day of university and despite popular demand that she and Jack go out with Iona and Carlisle for the night, she had decided against it.

She needed a rest. It had been a tremendously tedious year and there was still so much she had to come into terms with.

Like the fact that she had just recently sold all of her family business and associated things to Wayne Enterprises. She didn't quite understand how it happened. Apparently Mr Wayne's assistant or someone had been keeping a close eye on them. Fox somebody was his name but really, Misha could not care less. She had better things to do.

She was exhausted and a night out would not be good for her tonight. She had three whole months to go out.

Besides, she had to talk to Jack. And  _boy,_  was she nervous about it!

He had been living with her for over six months now and he was fully healed by now. As part of their initial conversation- or  _verbal contract_  as it was in her mind anyway- he had to leave the moment he had recovered. He'd recovered a few weeks back  _-or was it months?_  wondered her scattered brain- and, well, had yet to move out. A few months ago, she would have been furious at this proposition. She might have even called the cops or somehow thrown him out. But now,  _Misha knew the man behind the Joker._  And, to what she assumed would be the horror of many, many civilians of Gotham (not that they'd know anyway but still), she quite liked him.

Jack Napier was an incredible man.

And maybe-  _just maybe,_ she wasn't sure- she liked him. She didn't know why though. She was not, after all, good with positive feelings directed towards people. People often left her feeling disgusted, disappointed or feeling plain out angry. And Jack did the exact opposite. Of course, he frustrated her, caused her to break down, be emotional-  _something which she hated so very completely._  But at the same time he made her feel important, as though her opinions and thoughts were actually relevant- why, he'd even been there with her throughout her horrible family reunion.

To be honest, she didn't quite know how to bring it up.

She was quite worried about it. What if he reacted badly and reverted back into the crazy psycho clown everyone knew him for?

Misha reckoned she'd hide her make up supplies before talking to him.

 _And exactly when do I do that?_  she thought as she neared her apartment building.

Dinner had always been the perfect time to discuss things with Jack but somehow she felt that this was a topic that was better not left for that. After all, she had every mind to make something special tonight and she really didn't want dinner to be ruined because of that. She really didn't know what to expect.

Jack greeted her like he usually did when she returned.

"What's up?" she asked him, setting her book bag on the kitchen counter.

He was smiling for some reason and it was then that she realized that that made his scars look even more pronounced.

"Because I'm happy," Jack responded like any normal human would do and somehow, the next thing Misha knew, they were both sitting on her couch in front of the telly.

Apparently Jack had some good news to share. He began speaking but Misha was not really listening to him. She was getting more and more intrigued by the scar. She realized that she had never properly inspected them. She wondered if he'd stuck a razor into his mouth or if it was a knife. She decided on the former as the knife might have cut his tongue off if he wasn't careful- which, from knowing him, she knew he was not very often.

And so, with that her curiosity peaked and before she knew what she was doing, the words were out. "Really Jack, not to be rude or anything but how did you get these scars?"

Jack was in the middle of something really enthusiastic, his hands had been all over the place when he realized what she'd said and froze. He remained so for a good few minutes before turning to face her completely.

"What?" he asked her, bewildered.

Misha blinked.

Now, she wasn't expecting  _that._

She was expecting rage and anger and blunt hatred, not the amazed shock Jack was exhibiting.

"Your scars," she repeated rather sheepishly. "How'd you get them?"

Jack made the world's most oblivious face before looking heavenwards, thinking real hard, his index finger tapping his chin dramatically. Misha rolled her eyes. He wasn't going to tell her. He was going to tell her some weird story and then laugh at her for believing it.

"Honestly," he finally admitted, "I don't know."

She frowned. _What?_

"How can you not know?" she asked.

"I don't remember," he shrugged.

Misha eyed him sceptically.

"No really," he added, "I don't remember. I have a bad memory."

And that's about the time Misha lost it. She started laughing really, really hard and Jack looked utterly unamused.

"How can," she asked between giggles, " _you_  have a bad memory?"

I do!" he snapped. "I have a bad case of bad memory."

"Of course you do," she humoured him.

"No really," he said once more seriously and Misha simply toned down her laughter by shrugging.

"I kind of find that hard to believe," she admitted.

"I know," he agreed, "but it's the truth. Everything since before the Joker is extremely blurry. I mean, I do have a vague idea but the details are missing."

That piqued Misha's interests.

"What?"

"Yes," he went on, "I mean, I know that I was some kind of a chemical engineer or scientist or fond of explosives because I know more about them than I'd ever be bothered to read. I know I've sort of always wanted to be a comedian, hence the persona."

"Real creative," Misha scoffed and he gave her an exaggerated glare.

"It's _very_  creative," he insisted.

"Oh yeah, totally." She didn't even bother to hide the sarcasm.

"Misha!"

"Go on."

"Fine," he gave in, "I remember getting married though."

That made her stop for a moment.

Misha stared at him wide-eyed. "You're  _married?"_

He gave her a meaningful glance but she chose to ignore that.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded, suddenly very alarmed. After all, who was this Mrs Joker? Was Gotham about to face the wrath of his wife due to his disappearance? More importantly, was she fantasizing about a  _married_  man?  _She was practically a home wrecker!_

"Oh don't worry," he waved it off, "I don't even know what she looks like-" _Lie. Lie. Lie_."-Besides, she died a long time ago. To be honest, I don't even remember much of how she was."

Misha was quiet after that, stunned at the news. It baffled her how he could be so casual about it. But then, death seemed to follow the Joker. Maybe it was all very normal to him?

"You must remember something," she said after a while.

Jack frowned. "Why're you interested all of a sudden?" he asked her playfully.

She stopped at that, taking offence to his words. "Nothing," she mumbled, "I was just curious."

He said nothing to that which was fine by her. She really had no idea what to do.

* * *

It had been two days since the conversation and Misha had yet to talk to him about the moving ordeal. Although she did not exactly want him to move out, she reckoned that she, at the very least, wanted to know where they stood. He was becoming something of a room mate now.

But how to bring it up?

She didn't want to sound as though she was tired of him, she just wanted to know.

She hated not knowing about things like these.

So, after much debate and thinking up a hundred different scenarios, she decided to finally gather the courage to talk to him.

"Jack," she called from the hallway. Usually he would be in the sitting room reading a book from her bookshelf. It was quite funny though because he'd often complain about how he couldn't be bothered with reading.

"What?" he asked her, making his way towards her.

"We need to talk," she said before retiring to her bedroom. Jack followed her.

"Okay," he stressed the syllables. "What do you wanna talk about?"

Misha took a deep breath before speaking. She really had no idea how to go about it.

"Do you remember what I told you when you first starting living with me?" she asked slowly.

"Mmm- hmm," he nodded.

"Well, I wanted to talk about that," she admitted.

He raised a brow. "You want me to leave?"

 _Dammit, why he was so quick at picking up things like this?_  she thought.

"No! No, no, no," she quickly intersected. "I just... I just wanted you to know that, you could go... if you wanted to, like I don't mind or anything." She stared at her lap as she said so _. God, this sounded more awkward than it was supposed to be!_  Why,  _oh why,_  did she go ahead with this? He'd think that she wanted to get rid of him! She didn't-

"Hey," he interrupted her thoughts. Misha said nothing. "Stop thinking," he told her.

"Huh?"

"You're thinking," he went on, "I can practically see your brain working. Relax."

"I am relaxing," she argued.

"And I believe you," he added sarcastically.

She groaned.

"I don't think that you're trying to kick me out if that's what's bothering you," he said.

She sighed. "Good, because that's not what I wanted you to think."

He grinned at her.

"But," she want on, "I would like to know where we stand." She didn't know where this was coming from but she decided that she'd be the bold one in this case. The question was completely out of the blue.

"Where we stand?" For someone who was incredibly quick about a few things, Jack was ridiculously slow when it came to others.

"Yeah," she mumbled. Her moment of confidence had, unfortunately, been lost. If Jack didn't pick up what she meant then this would get immensely awkward.

"We're... friends I guess," he mused. _Yup,_  he did the thing.

This was officially awkward.

Misha could feel the beginnings of a blush raising. Why was he playing dumb? He ought to get this by now!

She decided to meet his gaze and confront him about the issue directly instead of beating about the bush. When she did, she found him grinning at her.

"What?" she asked him. He better not find this funny!

And that's exactly what he did.

Jack Napier began to laugh.

Misha could have killed him at that moment.

"You think this is funny?" she demanded angrily as the man guffawed. "Jack!"

He controlled himself a little before saying, "Really, what's there to say about us?"

She found herself quiet at that.

"You're heating up," he pointed out as her face reddened.

"I know," she said through gritted teeth. "You know, I thought-"

He silenced her once more with a kiss.


	12. Not How Trips Usually End

The next few days passed in a flash. She really didn't know what happened. One minute she was angry at Jack for making fun of their relationship, the next minute she'd been kissing him. Well, he was kissing her but that's not the point. They'd kissed and the rest was history.

They even began spending more time together, if that was possible. After all, even before that, they'd always been together anyway. Apparently, Iona had picked up on it as one day when they were out, she demanded a separate 'girl-time', so while Jack and Carlisle were at some video game place doing whatever they wanted, she and Misha spent some time at a cafe.

"Well?" she asked her once they'd gotten their orders: a frap for Misha and a latte for herself.

Misha frowned.

"What?"

"Did you do the deed?"

Misha almost choked on her drink. She glared at her.

"What? Come on, it's about time," Iona exclaimed.

"I don't think I want to talk about it," she said.

Iona rolled her eyes. "I'm your friend. Besides every girl does. I know something's up. You guys are actually okay with PDA now and you're okay with me calling him your boyfriend. At first you'd freak and Jack'd smirk like there was some inside joke between the two of you but now, you guys are okay with it. I mean, has he proposed or something?"

Misha's eyes widened. "What? No!"

"Thank god," her friend went on in the same monotone. "Because then I'd have to convince you to get married later because getting married during uni is a baaad idea."

"What?" Misha had completely lost her by now. "Iona, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you guys are acting weird. Good weird, but weird," she clarified. "What's up?"

"Nothing."

"Well, something is up," she mused.

"Iona, you're reading into things too much," Misha stated. "Is this why you wanted 'girl-time'?"

"Pretty much," the other one admitted.

"You're weird Iona," she said.

"I know," she giggled. "And you're a bad friend, you."

Misha frowned.

"You never tell me anything!"

"There is nothing to tell," she insisted.

"But there is!"

"Like?"

"You guys live together and you never told me!"

Misha frowned. "You didn't know?"

Iona nodded.

"How?"

"What is that supposed to be?"

"Well, okay," Misha admitted, "maybe I wasn't explicit about it but we do live together. I thought you'd know. You've been over countless times."

"I always thought he was over, I never knew that he lived with you," she argued.

"Well, that's your fault not having any perspective."

"How long have you two been dating anyway?" she inquired. "Like Carl and I have been together for three years and we haven't moved in yet. And you two! It think it's been what- three months?"

"Four months," she corrected her, taking the time when Jack began to roam around in public with that god awful make up he did. Personally, she liked him without it but everyone would realize who he was and that would be a problem.

"Still, don't you think you guys are moving too fast?" Iona asked.

Misha said nothing because, well, she did not know how to answer the question. Thankfully, Jack and Carlisle decided to join them at that very point and the question remained unanswered. She was quick to ignore her friend's concern.

* * *

"Why do you have so many books?" Jack asked the obvious question after a million years of inspection.

"Huh?" Misha looked up from the economics book she had been reading all evening.

"Books," he repeated, "you've got hundreds of them."

"I like books," she replied, "ever since I was a kid. It was better than having friends."

Jack raised a brow. "Better than having friends? What sort of a cruel childhood did you have?"

"Please," she scoffed, setting her book aside, "it must've been better than yours, Joker."

_"Excuse me?"_

"Mmm-hmm, I'm not sharing if you're not," she retorted, "and you don't tell me anything. You somehow charm your way into me telling you."

Jack chuckled at that. "Because, like I said, I don't remember anything."

"You must remember something," Misha insisted.

"I don't," he admitted.

"Haven't you ever tried?" she asked him.

"What are you doing Misha?" he asked her.

"Well, I read this book by Dr Crane," she went on only to be interrupted by him.

"The scarecrow is crazy. Trust me, I've worked with him."

Misha glared at him. "I don't know about his exploits but he's a brilliant psychologist. He has this one theory where he says that if you channel enough psychic energy which every human possesses but doesn't know about, you can tap into another person's mind and recover memory and stuff. Many people agree with him because that explains mutants and super human strengths exhibited by them."

Jack was eyeing her sceptically. "And you want to do that," he said.

Misha nodded eagerly.

"You're crazy," he commented.

"Oh come on!" she exclaimed. "It's not like we've got anything better to do. It'll be like an experiment or something."

He smirked at that. "I think I have an idea of what else we could do," he remarked and she narrowed her eyes.

"Oh shut up!" she snapped. "Come on Jack, what could possibly go wrong?"

"Knowing Scarecrow," he said, "a hundred and ten things."

Misha made her a face.

"Oh shut up!" she snapped, "I'm serious Jack."

"You know, you're really un-corporative," she stated.

"I try."

She thought for a while and even though she didn't quite like it, came to the conclusion that she would push him into it next time. In the mean time, she could give him the silent treatment.  _Ish._

So true to her thoughts, she pointedly stood up and left the room. Knowing Jack, he was bound to follow her. Misha lay in bed and pretended to sleep. A few minutes later, he joined her.

"I'm not un-corporative," he mumbled, burying his nose into her shoulder.

Misha sighed.

"I'm just not sure about what you'll find," he said. That piqued her interest.

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning to look at him. He looked different. Maybe it was the moonlight that illuminated his face or the fact that he genuinely looked disturbed, she couldn't tell which- perhaps a mixture of both?

"I don't remember anything," he told her once more, "but I'm afraid of my past. You're the only one I've ever been like this apart from my late wife who I can't remember. I'm worried that the monster I was will push you away."

"You're not a monster," she said. "You just... have a different way of approaching things."

He smiled cynically. "I'd like you to say that after I randomly kill one of your family members in some bank robbery or something."

"I highly doubt killing any one of my so-called family members would make me feel sad," she replied, "and you're not killing anyone now. You're human, like me. It's okay."

"It won't be okay once I start again," he said.

The thought scared her but she shrugged it off. "I can't sympathize with people," she said, "one way or the other, everyone gets what they deserve. I bet the people you killed had it for them. I don't believe that bad things happen to good people."

"Really? What about yourself?"

"I'm not a good person Jack," she responded, "I deserved whatever I got. I didn't take any of my inheritance because it had my cousin's blood all over it. I've spent years wishing something bad would happen to my uncle and his wife. It did. It wasn't the way I wanted, but it happened. Good people don't think like me."

"There's no such thing as  _good people_ " he said, "All it takes is one bad day to turn a person around. On bad day to change your life."

"And what if that bad day gave you hope?" she asked.

He frowned.

"I was having a terrible day when I met you," she went on, "in fact, I was going to kill myself." He gasped.

_"What?"_

"Yeah, I'd gotten tired of everything, I'd reckoned that when I got home I'd- well, I'd kill myself."

"Why would you want to do that?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, "but I met you and decided that honestly, I can't be half as bad as the Joker. If you were cool with living, I ought to be too. You have a bounty on your head and you're alive. Why can't I be?"

He was staring at her now, a frown marring his features.

"Don't worry, I don't plan on killing myself," she told him, "you helped me get over that."

"I- I didn't know," he admitted, "I should have seen it. You weren't throwing tantrums when we fought were you."

She smiled sadly. "You're not the only one with scars Jack. Some scars run deeper than that."

"I don't know what to say," he spoke up.

"Don't," she answered. "Maybe it's better not to." He said nothing and smiled inside, pulling her closer into his chest. He kissed her on the forehead and they stayed like that for the time, not saying anything. Just existing. Enjoying one another's company.

* * *

The next day brought renewed enthusiasm within Jack.

"I'm okay with whatever crazy psychic stuff you want to perform on me," he said to Misha over breakfast.

She frowned. "I'm not exactly in the mood of stuff like that."

"Really?"

"Yup."

He pouted briefly and she laughed at that.

"Maybe some other time?"

"Okay."

They finished breakfast and Misha cleaned up the dishes. It was grocery day, meaning that both Jack and Misha would be making their way to the nearest grocery store. She found the job to be tedious but eh, at least Jack made it better.

And better it was.

In the cereals aisle, they ended up arguing over which cereal to pick. An argument which she won because well, Jack had crap taste in cereal. Apparently he liked cereal that tasted like cardboard whereas she liked the healthier, fruitier variant. She'd won the argument by saying that he could have his pick of sugary stuff which she regretted half an hour later.

Jack apparently had a bit of a sweet tooth which she'd somehow overlooked.

"So that's where all my sweets went!" she exclaimed once he'd admitted to his crimes.

"Yup," he'd grinned and she half heartedly punched him on the shoulder.

"I'll have to find a better place for them," she said in mock annoyance.

Jack humbly accepted the challenge.

It was almost dark by the time they were returning home and that had more to do with the de-tour they'd taken to the nearest mall rather than their banters which had rendered the grocery trip longer than it was supposed to be.

They were walking, only a block away from Misha's apartment, when a van slowed down and three men with masks jumped out, their guns held out in display.

"Put your hands in the air and give us your things!" one of them barked.

Misha froze but did as they said. She'd been in a bunch of such situations and knew that the only way to save her life was by abiding by the rules.

Jack on the other hand did nothing. "Well? What're ya waiting for?" he asked them chirpily.

"Jack, what're you doing?" she hissed at him. "Do as they say!"

"Please, as if these guys scare me!" he exclaimed.

That seemed to anger the goons.

"Shut up or I'll shoot her!" the tallest of the three barked.

Jack rolled his eyes. "You shoot her and you die," he stated simply.

"You're crazy!" another one of them remarked.

"I would say something but,  _ahh,_  both of us knows that's true," he said, his voice high-pitched much like the Joker's once more.

The three men visibly shook at that. "B-boss?" the tallest one asked.

"Well, hello sunshine," he went on, "good to see you three useless idiots! Where have ya bin? Where they others? You din' think I was dead or something did ya?"

They said nothing.

"Now, if you excuse I have to go somewhere," he said, his voice normal once more, "Misha." He held out his hand and she took it reluctantly not sure of what to make of it. His henchmen had discovered him. What did that mean?

Together they walked home in silence, the three goons trailing behind them. If Misha felt uncomfortable, she didn't voice her opinion. It was only when they were home and Jack told her to stay in their room while he talked that she realized that whatever sanctuary they'd built would end soon.

The Joker was back in business.


	13. Understanding the Joker's Psychology

Needless to say, things did not change much.

To Misha's surprise-  _or was it relief?_  she often wondered- his henchmen finding him did not change Jack. He was still incredibly nice, kind, generous (and yes, she did know that these were all just synonyms of one another but really, there was no other way to describe Jack.) supportive and understanding. Had she not known better, she would say that everything was still the same. Jack was still himself, a guy sharing her apartment. Her room mate, her best friend unexpectedly though Iona loved to differ and her boyfriend. Things could never be more perfect.

But she  _did_  know better and every time the news of yet another one of the Joker's exploit came on the telly, she shuddered. She often wondered how he could be so gruesome and cruel and  _monstrous_ \- specially, since he was the exact opposite of all that when he was with her. She reckoned that he suffered from some dual personality disorder or something like that.

That would explain the vast differences between Jack and the Joker.

Misha decided long ago that she preferred it like that.

So every night when he'd return home late smelling distinctly of motor oil and gun powder, she wouldn't question him. As far as Misha was concerned, the moment that horrendous face make up came off, Jack and the Joker were two different people. And for most of the part, it did seem as though they were two different people.

Misha could curse the Joker all she wanted and she could still go on movie dates with Jack every Saturday. No one was any wiser.

It went on like that for most of the summers. The Joker would carry out his exploit and Misha and Jack would carry out their own. She really didn't think much of it. After all, what was there to think about?

Or so, she told herself everyday.

What Misha didn't realize was that the truth was catching up with her.

Often times Jack and she would be out in public and she would find herself looking over her shoulder, freezing literally when the police or any one related to law enforcement ended up near them. One time, she even ended up having a panic attack.

That, Jack had caught on.

"Is everything alright?" he asked her the very night after they'd gotten home.

Misha shook her head to say no.

"I want words Misha," he added, a little edge in voice.

"It's nothing," she muttered after the initial surprise of the statement. Jack knew that she didn't spoke much. What was this all about?

He arched a brow.

"Really," she insisted and yes, this also worried her. She never had to explain herself to Jack before. What was going on? "I'm just tired."

He didn't say much to that. Instead, he just kissed her good night, stating that she ought not to tire herself- that was his job, he'd added wickedly. She smiled- fake smiled and hoped to god it seemed original for his sake if not for hers. It worked probably because after that, he'd left to go about his business once more.

It was then that she realized that their relationship was in jeopardy.

* * *

She didn't like taking advice.

She considered herself above it actually.

Perhaps after years of making choices on her own and being fiercely independent since the age of twelve, she had learned to make her own decisions without the better know how of how to go about them. Or maybe it was simply because Misha Alau'din had a pride problem that was the size of New York and Washington combined.

She did not know.

But the fact remained: she  _never_  took advice from anyone.

So when she first picked up her phone to call, she really didn't know what to say. She did, however, know what Iona would say. "Leave him immediately." But Misha was not sure if she could do that. She knew she could get out any time she wanted to; she just couldn't live with the numbness anymore. Jack made her feel and that's probably the worst thing he did to her.

And that is why she was here today. In front of a high end restaurant which honestly she wouldn't be caught dead in but eh, if someone was treating her, who was she to say no?

The incredibly disapproving looks she got from the many, many rich clintele did not help.

Misha rolled her eyes as she saw her reflection in a mirror nearby. Really, she didn't look that bad. Honestly. True, she was wearing a white, knee length GSU tee underneath a dark leather jacket which belonged to Jack, dark nylons and combat boots but she still looked good. For a college student that is.

The guy at the reservation desk looked at her sceptically. "And do you have...?" he asked her, eyeing her up and down.

She sighed briefly before saying, "I'm supposed to-"

"Mish! What're you doing out there in line? C'mon, I've got our reservations!" Fram Harwinton exclaimed, making his way towards the reservation desk. "Really Sheen," he said to the man at the desk, "I thought I told you to keep an eye for Misha Alau'din. You should know that our Mish doesn't do suits and ties."

She found herself going red at that as many people around them seemed to eye her curiously. Why, she even heard a lady behind her whisper and she was in the same room as her!

"Misha Alau'din?" she was whispering to her companion. "I heard she donated her entire inheritance to charity."

"Really?" said the other person, "She's worse than Bruce Wayne. Is this why she dresses like a homeless person?"

She resisted the urge to snap at them and instead focused on Fram completely.

"No need to announce Framton," she mumbled. Her friend chuckled at that.

"Still hate the limelight Mish?" he teased her, ushering her towards a secluded corner in the restaurant so they could talk. Once they were seated, he asked, "So what you wanna talk about?"

She took deep breath and let her thoughts collect before speaking.

"It's Jack," she told him.

"What about him?" he asked almost immediately. "Is he bothering you? He seemed rather nice though. Is he one of those-"

"No, no, no, Fram!" she exclaimed. "It's nothing like that! Christ, you're so over the top."

He mocked offence but said nothing to that. Instead, he asked her if she'd like something to drink.

Misha made it a point to glare at him.

"Just kidding kid," he laughed, "I had to try it though. I see you're still keeping to your values."

"Of course I am," she retorted, "after all, drinking is a bad habit."

"Pssh," he rolled his eyes, "Excessive drinking is a bad habit. A little bit of something won't kill you. So if he isn't abusive, what is wrong with this Jack?" he asked her, averting back to the topic.

"There's nothing wrong per say," she admitted, "it's just that- well, we're drifting apart. And it scares me because I really like him."

"And you're telling this to me? I'm not gonna give you some girl advice you know," he stated.

"Please, if I wanted that kind of advice, I'd call your sister."

"Oh wow, I should tell that to Dina," he teased her, "Love to see how she'd react. Anyway," he added, emphasizing on the word, "I reckon the reason you're talking to me is because you want proper advice, am I right?"

She nodded.

"Just give him some space," he said, "that's what most girls can't do and then when guys end up dumping them because of that, they play the victim."

"Hey- I'm not clingy!" she cried.

Fram held his hands up in surrender. "You said it not me!" he quipped.

"I swear to god, Fram," she muttered, "so what should I do?"

"Honestly nothing," he replied.

"But it's suffocating!" she exclaimed. "I feel so horrible. I feel like something's wrong and it's my fault an-"

"Misha," he interrupted her, "calm down"

She shut up at that and let him go on.

"Nothing's wrong the way you think it is," he told her. "You're just- I get it. You're upset and paranoid because I'm guessing this is the first relationship you've ever had."

She nodded.

"Just calm down," he repeated, "look, life isn't pie- you know that, I know that. You know that better than I do and that's great because that should make you understand this stuff better. However, you're emotional right now. Anyway-that isn't the point. The point is, you're worried about this not working out. It will. Just let go naturally."

"But I hardly see him anymore," she told him.

"Maybe you were just busy- is school out?"

"Yes."

"See. You were probably in classes during the time he wasn't around and now that you aren't, it probably feels like you guys never spend time."

It did make sense to her but unfortunately Fram didn't know that until recently Jack never left the house for 'work.' It still did explain why she felt so suffocated at times. She didn't have anything to do. Perhaps she could work an extra shift or something.

"Ummm," she said. Even though he was partly right she was never going to let Fram think that he was completely right about it- why, she'd never hear the end of it! "I'll see if that's the case."

"It probably is," he stated and that's when she realized that he was kneeling in front of her, holding her hand.  _Gosh, was she really that out of it?_

He stood up and walked back to his seat. "So, now that all that serious talk's done. Wanna order something?"

"Sure," she said and Fram called the waiter.

* * *

"There are three kinds of normal people in the world and Christopher Meyers is one of them," the Joker told his men. "In fact, he's one of those boring people who,  _ah,_  will probably play by the _rules._ " He made a disgusted face at that, as he literally spat the word. His men said nothing but nodded.

"In fact, he vows to bring me down!" he cackled.

They were also wise enough to laugh along with him.

"So we will be teaching him a little lesson," he went on, "I have somebody tellin' me that he's here." He pointed at the nicely maintained building opposite the road. "So why not pay him a visit boys?" He grinned, flashing his teeth menacingly. "C'mon."

With that, the Joker and his goons got out of the van and quickly marched into the building. Unfortunately, it was one of those high end places with waiters and reservation desks and all that non sense.

"Sir, may I help you?" the man at the desk foolishly asked him. His eyes became wide in horror as he realized who had just walked in.

"Nah, I can take care of things on my own," the Joker shrugged before shooting the man in the chest. He walked further into the restaurant and his men began firing upwards to alert their audience.

Jack inwardly cringed when he realized that the room was full of rich people-  _the kind of rich people Misha happened to hate._  That angered him even more. He  **never**  mixed pleasure with business and he most certainly was not thinking about her in that instance. So instead, he fired from his own gun.

"Okay listen," he barked, relishing how all these people had fallen on their knees in front of him in fright. It made him feel important, better than all of them. They deserved to die, all of them. They were so selfish, caught up in a rat race to gain the upper hand that they'd forgotten all about values and morals. Not that he believed in them anyway but still. At least he saw the reality of humanity. These people- why, they were filthy! There was no purpose or reason for them to exist. "I'm looking for Christopher Meyers. Ya know. DA. So if you all just keep quiet and hold on to your lives- _maybe_  you'll live. Stay out of our way and no one gets hurt _\- ish._ "

And then he and his men began to look for the man.

For a place that looked small from the outside, the restaurant was remarkably big. Maybe it was the interior designing what with all the mock ceilings and walls and darkened corners. He didn't know. Nor did he care. All he wanted to do was find Chrissie and scare the shit out of him. Maybe even let him have a bullet or two.

That sounded like a plan.

He made his way through the building, relishing how he could push, shove or even kick these so-called powerful people. It was hilarious how afraid they really were once cut off from their prime source of power: communication. Before entering the building, he had one of his men install buffers and the like to prevent anyone from contacting anyone from out of the building. Oh yes, mobile phones, internet services, everything was disabled. He wanted this one to be a complete surprise for Batso.

He hadn't seen him in a while, he decided, and this would be a great way to bring focus back on him. Truth be told, he missed Batso. Well, missed messing with him anyway. One of these days, Batman would have to break his one code and when that happened, the Joker would destroy him.

He was making his way towards the end of the dinner hall or whatever this particular room was, when one of his men called him. "Hey boss, I've found him! He's here with a bunch of people. Looks like he's hiding!"

Jack smiled psychotically before striding in that direction. Maybe, maybe the DA wouldn't survive this day. Well, things seemed to be getting better and better.

* * *

"It's going to be okay," Fram reassured Christopher Meyers's pregnant wife who was shaking from fright.

"No, why do they want him?" she cried. "Why?"

The man in question said nothing but Misha could see that his face was paler than it ought to be.

Truth be told, she had no idea what was happening. One minute she and Fram were having lunch, only just having been joined by DA Christopher Meyers (who was all for justice, exactly how a DA was supposed to be, she decided. He was rather nice) and the next, there was some firing and someone started calling Christopher Meyers's name. They had taken to hiding in the back of the hall, behind a mock wall and overturned table.

"He's the DA," someone- one of the few people who had joined them- said. "They're trying to scare you."

"They ought to know that I don't get scared so easily," Mr Meyers said even though there was a slight shake in his eyes. "If only I could get someone to pick up the bloody phone... _why aren't they-_ '

Too late. One of the goons, a man wearing a rather strange looking beanie on his head and what looked like a distorted batman mask. He grinned at them and then called, "Hey boss, I've found him! He's here with a bunch of people. Looks like he's hiding!" He broke into laughter and in any situation Misha would have focused on self preservation when she heard a familiar clown-like laughter.

Misha's heart sank as Jack came into view.

And by the looks of it, he wasn't exactly Jack at that moment. His eyes were looked onto Christopher Meyers and for the first time, Misha saw the raw hunger for human life in his eyes. His eyes were wide, dilated in excitement as he greeted the man and pulled him off the ground.

"Well, hello there DA," he snarled, pulling his pocket knife out. His eyes looked like a demon's as he stuck the blade into his mouth.

"Ya know," he began, "you and I, ah, we could've had a great time. But no, you had to try and be the good guy. So now I'll have to get rid of ya." His gaze landed on Meyers's wife and said, "Oh, we'e got the wifey here too. Aww, such a shame. I wanted to... savour your death. Oh well, I'll be nice. I'll be..." He slit the man's throat causing her to scream, "...quick."

He let go of the now dead DA's body and turned to the audience.

Misha stared at him with unabashed horror, her jaw literally dropped open.

 _She knew..._  she had known that he was... he  _was_  the Joker after all but- _this?_ _How could he do this?_

How could he just  _kill_  someone like that?

They briefly locked eyes but aside from the hint of recognition that crossed his eyes, he completely dismissed her and walked off.

It was only then that she realized exactly what sort of a monster she had been harbouring.

_Dear god._


	14. Understatement

When she got back to her apartment later that day, she really did not know what to say or do for the matter. A part of her mind, the one that was not numb from the traumatizing experience wanted to call upon the police. A larger part wanted to clear out and leave while she could. A third part, which was controlling most of her actions, just wanted to forget that the entire had happened altogether.

And so, Misha did the one thing which she left only for emergency situations. Like serious emergency situations but at this point, it was clearly emergency situation times infinity.

So she was justified.

Or so, she assumed.

Needless to say, she'd rampaged through the liquor cabinet. She'd often done so in the past when she couldn't handle the stress or numbness around her. She hadn't done so since Jack moved in. He was... _nice._  He made her feel worthwhile.

He was also a mass murderer who killed people out of the fun of it.

The thought made her feel sick and so she locked it into an unapproachable part of her brain and took a long swing from the bottle.

The bitter sweet numbness was welcoming.

And boy, did she miss it.

* * *

Jack felt a little guilty as he walked up the horrendous amount of stairs to his and Misha's apartment. Even though he knew he was guilty about a bunch of things- something which ironically happened to him whenever he finished a job these days- he could tell that there were precisely three things he felt guilty about which was directly linked to Misha.

The first one was relatively common and he knew exactly how to make up for it. He was late. Again. But that was normal now. She'd even stopped complaining about it.

The second was that he'd missed out date night which happened to be, _well,_  tonight. For some reason they'd go out together on Tuesdays even though it was a week night and Misha had work and college the next day.

The third was _, well,_  complicated.

To put it mildly.

Actually, scratch that.

The only thing he was feeling guilty about was this issue.

Sort of.

Oh, who was he kidding?

It didn't even make sense really.

Misha knew what he was. She knew what he did and was always cool with it.

Or at least that's what he assumed.

They had not exactly talked about it.

Ever.

Jack groaned as he finally reached their apartment door. He made a mental note to talk about it with her considering how she was there with that Harwinton guy she used to date. Oh yes, he'd gotten close to Dina and her fiancé to find out more about Misha's past since she never really talked about much other than the fact that her relations were crap. And Dina had been her best friend for quite a long time. To quote her, they'd grown up together.

Until Misha's parents died and Daniel Harwinton moved his family to England.

Jack had always found the notion to be strange but he hadn't exactly had time to question the former about it.

Howard had, however, mentioned something about a tiff in the family. And that's when he'd zoned out. Jack really wished he hadn't.

But still, the fact remained.

Fram Harwinton was her ex boyfriend (of sorts. According to Dina who said that they had a tease, kiss but don't tell thing going on) and she had never mentioned it to him. She'd told him that he was the only guy she'd ever gotten close to and that kind of frustrated him because even though he did not exactly see Fram as a threat the fact remained: she hadn't told him and just today she was out having lunch with him.

Honestly even though he was kind of upset by the fact that she had to see him doing a job like that, he was secretly happy that he got to see what she was up to when he was not around. He'd made up his mind to monitor Misha's activity.

It wasn't that he did not trust her, it was just that he didn't trust Fram.

And Misha around him.

He unlocked the door and stepped inside, only to immediately realize that something was horribly wrong.

For one thing, there was this strange smell of alcohol in the air and the second, she wasn't cooking.

Misha was usually attempting to cook something around this time.

Even though her cooking sucked. He didn't exactly have the heart to tell her though considering how she was actually making an effort these days. She could really make a mean spaghetti and lasagne and that sort of stuff but she sucked at other stuff and-

Again, that was not the issue at that.

He was really distracted today for no reason at all.

Or maybe there was a reason and he was going to confront her about it.

"Misha?" he called walking through the sitting room towards their bedroom.

No response.

_That's strange,_  he thought as he looked around the room.

She was no where to be seen.

"Misha, where are you?" he called once more.

Silence.

A sudden and alarming surge of panic erupted through his body as he began to search the apartment for her. She wasn't anywhere. He looked under the bed, checked the bath, went back into the kitchen and then back into their room to look under the bed in case she thought this was a joke or something.

Nope.

He took a deep breathe as possible scenarios raced through his head. What if someone- maybe one of his enemies (and he did have quite a lot of those) had followed him home? Of course, he was always very cautious but who knew? What if the police got her?

That wouldn't make sense. He'd know if the police were any closer to finding the Joker's identity. He had a mole in the system! It didn't make sense. Where was she? Where-

He looked out of the window to find someone sitting at the end of the fire escape.

Jack felt himself untense _. Jesus fucking Christ._

He climbed out of the window and down the rusty old stairs. He smiled briefly remembering the fatal day he climbed up those very stairs and met Misha. That seemed years ago now.

"Christ you scared me," he told her as he sat down beside her.

She was looking the other way and frankly wasn't giving any heed to what he was saying.

"Misha?" he repeated a little louder and for what it's worth it seemed to have scared the daylights out of her.

Misha turned around to face extremely quickly, almost knocking herself out against the railings.

"Woah there, are you okay?" Jack asked her, immediately taking hold of both her shoulders to steady her.

"I'm okay, what could possibly-" _hic-cup_  "-be wrong with me?" she wondered aloud, very, very slowly. He studied her. Her face seemed flushed for some reason, her hair a mess and her eyes wide. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was drunk.

But Misha didn't drink. _Right?_

"Are you drunk?" he voiced his concerns and she smiled a little too cheerfully to honestly be herself.

"Nope," she stated, before another hiccup overtook her and she pressed her hand against her mouth like a child whose secret had just been exposed.  _"Maybe..."_

Jack sighed, looking heavenwards. "This is..." he was at a loss for words. Never had he ever thought that Misha- of all the people- would ever get drunk. It just didn't seem possible. Until now. Something wasn't quite right. "Why?"

_"Because you're a monster,"_  she told him, jabbing her index finger into his chest accusingly, "you kill people for the fun of it. You're  _craaay- zy._  You're crazier than my aunt and she's  _cuckoo_!"

"What? Misha what're you saying?" he demanded, feeling hurt. Because really, that's how he felt. People called him many things: freak, crazy, insane- heck, monster was the most common but for some reason when she said it, it hurt. For some reason he thought she understood why he did it even though they'd- again, like many things in their relationship (if it could be called a relationship that)- never talked about it. He thought she-

Well, it didn't matter now did it?

Someone once had told him that drunken words were a man's thoughts or something along those lines. He should have known that she couldn't be any better. She only kept quiet where others were vocal.

"Come on in," he told her, pulling her up with him. He knew he was being rough but honestly- she started it! He was so mad at her. Why couldn't she stay silent? They were doing just fine and she just had to mess it up!  _Why did she do that? Jeez, what was wrong with women? Why did they have to make everything so complicated?_

He could feel his temper raising and before he knew it, he was remembering.

Once upon a time, long, long ago, Jack Napier had felt the same way.

The day he killed his wife.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

* * *

Hangovers were the worst.

And for some reason (more like intuition but she really wasn't in the mood to fix her grammar right now), she could tell that this was the worst she'd experienced in a while.

Not that Misha often drunk herself dead- well, she did but not this dead.

Despite her problem, she never got quite drunk enough to experience its after affects the next day. Or perhaps it was because of her problem that she had a very high tolerance for alcohol but really- she couldn't care less right now.

Gosh, she didn't even remember why she did it.

Her head spun as she tried to get up from the-

_floor?_

Misha frowned.  _How'd she get down there?_

After a few minutes of struggling, she was able to get up and drag herself into the kitchen where strangely enough, someone had made her a nice cup of coffee. God, she needed that. She needed that so bad right now.

She chugged the entire content down her throat in one swing. Needless to say, she felt better immediately. As the dull drumming sound at the back of her head started to fade away (finally, she thought. It seemed to have gone on for a hundred years), she looked around to access the situation.

She briefly wondered when she'd thrown a party at the apartment before it dawned on her: she never kept parties.

She attended them but she never hosted them herself mostly because, well, she didn't have enough room.

Which brought her to her second dilemma. _How the hell was her fucking house so messy?_

Honestly, it looked like some whirlwind or something had hit it. She briefly wondered how that had happened when the front door shut close.

Misha peeked out of the kitchen to find Jack standing near the door looking tired.

"Hey," she called. "Where were you?"

Jack, for his part, just ignored her and walked past her towards the refrigerator and pulled out her tub of ice cream. Not that she was very particular about it. It was just ice cream. They could share, right?

Only, he didn't share.

Instead of scooping a scope out and putting it into a bowl like normal people would, he took the entire tub into the living room.

Misha frowned once more. She was used to her own mood swings. But this?

This was...  _new_.

"Uhh, Jack?" she called, stepping into the living room as well.

He ignored her.

At least now she knew how he felt when she ignored him. No wonder he got mad at her all the time.

"Jack," she repeated once more after settling down on the couch next to him.

There was something seriously wrong with him. For one thing, he looked upset. Jack was never this upset. He was moody and annoyed but never depressed. She wondered what had happened. Specially since he was, well, not even eating the ice cream.

Why, the poor thing was melting! He was wasting it!

"If you don't want to eat it, don't waste it," she told him and he just glared at her before putting it aside on the coffee table.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes in silence before she broke it once more.

"Jack, is everything alright?" she asked him.

He didn't answer. He was staring off into the distance. Misha found that incredibly annoying.

"Jack!" she said loudly. "Jaaack!"

That did get a reaction out of him but not the one she wanted.

"What?" he shrieked angrily, "Can't you just let me be?"

She must have looked really hurt (and she was because her head literally hurt. She was, after all, nursing a hang over) because his hard expression softened immediately.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," he immediately started but she shrugged.

"It's fine really."

"No, that was totally uncalled for and-"

"Oh shut up Jack, it's fine."

He did shut up at that and it stayed like that for the rest of the evening.

Jack was in some weird place since all he'd do was stare off into a distance.

As for herself, she was trying to remember stuff from before her hangover. She remembered seeing him as the Joker but not what was happening and reckoned it had something to do with her seeing him as the Joker that got him upset.

She could not have been more wrong.

Later that night when she was getting ready for bed, Jack finally opened up.

"I've told you about my wife yeah?"

Misha froze. As much as she had accepted someone being his wife a long time ago, she wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea. It highlighted the age difference they had (close to eleven years) and that sort of made her feel... strange. And that was without mentioning the fact that she was sort of envious of his wife. She got to see Jack before the scars and the Joker persona. Misha would kill (really, but not really) to see him like that.

"Yes," she said instead, pulling a straight face and hoping that he could not see through it.

He didn't.

"I told you she died right?"

She nodded. Please don't tell me that she's secretly alive somewhere!

"Yeah, well I remember what happened to her."

Misha raised a brow.

He'd told her that he remembered nothing.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yes," he murmured.

She joined him at the edge of her bed, genuinely curious.

"What happened to her?"

"I killed her."

_"What?"_

She didn't even bother trying to hide her shock.

 


	15. What Really Happened To Jeannie Kerr

When Jack first told her about his wife, Misha had felt many things. She had been jealous, sad, relieved (that she was dead), envious and disappointed. She hadn't let him realize how she felt though. She'd been nice and supportive and understanding... like a good girlfriend (if that's what she was to him anyway) should be. She did not judge him whatsoever because it was his life before he met her. Honestly, if he told her that he had a living wife, she might have even been angry at him for cheating on the poor soul despite the fact that Misha would, no doubt, be burning with jealous and ideas of how to kill her.

She had made it a point to avoid the topic of his wife.

She felt strange when he talked about her and granted, he didn't talk about her very often. It was seldom that he even mentioned her. To her satisfaction, he didn't even care much about what his life used to be like before the Joker persona.

So she wasn't particularly pleased when he talked he spoke about her come evening, or dawn or afternoon or whatever time it was- Misha hated how uncoordinated she got when she drank which was partly why she never drank much to begin with. Gosh, she really hated her life decisions sometimes.

But that was not the point.

The point is, when Jack told her that he might very well be (scratch that, he  _was_ the reason why she was dead, she had never expected to find herself feeling half as shocked as she was at the moment. And then came sympathy. Misha had never expected that either.

"What? How?" she managed to say in her semi- paralyzed state.

Jack didn't meet her eye and that worried her greatly since this one crazy, insane, paradoxical part of her brain was whispering that she was next. But she wasn't. That was ridiculous. Jack loved her! He liked her- at the very least. He just had too.

_Ah, but he loved his wife too didn't he?_  whispered that miserable part of her mind.  _That didn't exactly stop him from killing now did it?_  She tried not to think of it and turned to his attention instead.

He hadn't replied.

How?" she repeated, this time louder, "How did you do it?"

"I don't know Misha," he admitted. "I don't know."

"I'm sure you remember something," she said, touching his shoulder reassuringly.

"I don't often recall what I do as the Joker," he admitted.

Misha ignored that unsettling voice at the back of her head that told her to run, run away and hide at that very moment.

"I'm sorry," she said instead, trying to make him feel better.

"I remember the day though," he said suddenly. "I remember a lot. Did you know that I wanted to be a comedian? That Jeannie was the only one who laughed at my jokes?"

Misha said nothing even though she was surprised at the fact that he'd said her name. The name sounded familiar though and she reckoned it was a common name.

Still.

_Where had she heard the name Jeannie before?_

"How did you-" she tried, referring to the fact that he remembered details from his former life. He always said he didn't.

"As time went on, I got really into the Joker," he told her, "And as lesser and lesser people started calling me Jack, I guess- I forgot."

"So why now?"

She hoped she didn't sound rude. She didn't want to sound rude. She was really just genuinely curious as to why he remembered all of a sudden.

"Because I..." he looked away and that made her suspicious. "I was- I was mad at you."

Misha frowned. "Why?"

"You told me you thought I was a monster," he said quietly.

Her eyes widened. "What? When?"

"Last night when I came home, you were drunk."

Misha closed her eyes momentarily before reopening them and facing him. "Jack, I didn't mean it. I was just- I'd never seen someone die before."

He nodded, even though he looked skeptical.

She took his face into her hands and repeated, "I swear, I didn't mean it. I was just upset about the man's death. I mean, I don't even remember his name but he was nice. I talked to him before, you know."

He smiled a little and she kissed him.

"So- what else did you remember?" she asked him, hoping she could find something else about him. Like, where he'd lived, his family and stuff.

"I remember the day I killed her," he said once more.

She was getting quite annoyed with that. She got it. He killed her. Couldn't they move forwards?

"I remember that I was particularly upset that day," he told her, "I'd gotten turned down by another gig and Jeannie- did you know she was pregnant?"

Misha froze. She remembered meeting someone named Jeannie at the park near her aunt and uncle's house. She had said-

_Oh my god._

She couldn't believe it. She hoped to God it wasn't true. She really did. She wasn't so sure about listening to the rest of Jack's story now. She'd spend the last few months hated on a woman she had, at one point in her life, actually  _envied?_  What the hell!

"She told me that the land lord had given us a few days to move and I don't know," he continued, "I was very nervous and stuff. We didn't exactly have any money. I'd quit my job for the comedian thing and I got really frustrated. I went into the bathroom and something happened. I snapped. My head was really messed up and I think that's the first time the Joker was there. I couldn't believe what was happening because it wasn't supposed to happen that way. I was the Joker- the star comedian. At least that's what I thought anyway. I was even dressed up as the Joker because that was supposed to be my costume. The next thing I know, I'd killed her."

Misha shuddered. Poor, poor Jeannie. She hadn't deserved it. How could he be so casual about it? She'd died and here he was feeling mildly guilty about it.

"I mean," he went on, "I don't remember how but that's got to be it right? I killed her when I first became the Joker. Because that's how things work when I'm him, I don't remember stuff."

And that settled it.

It occurred to Misha that one day the Joker just might kill her as well. After all, didn't he kill that man Fram introduced her to? And what about his own wife?

One day Jack would come home, not feeling himself at all- the Joker having full control over him and he would kill her. Just for the sake of it. She'd already seen him do that once before. As the Joker, he didn't so much as recognise her. He hadn't blinked an eye as he shot that man even though he'd seen her. For the first time it occurred to her that she probably was just an amusement. Jack might like her- genuinely like her but the Joker? That guy was crazy. He was unpredictable, unreliable and fucking manipulative. What had she been expecting?

She hadn't honestly thought that he might go easy on her or something because she- and he liked her too, though she wasn't so sure now- liked him, right? She couldn't have. It was insane. Misha had always known that she was crazy, she just hadn't expected her craziness to hit the point of suicidal.

_What was wrong with her?_

"So," she spoke, addressing the inevitable truth, "that means I'm next right?"

Jack's head snapped up to look at her, his eyes wide from fear and shock and another thing she couldn't name...  _disbelief? Alert?_  She didn't know.

"What?" he cried. "No!"

"But it could happen," she stated, "just like you said, you wouldn't remember what you did as him. You'd kill me and you wouldn't know."

He seemed horrified at the prospect.

Misha sighed.

"I wouldn't do that to you," he tried again, "I couldn't...I-"

"I bet that's what you thought when you were with her." She didn't even bother hiding the venom in voice. How could he be so naive?

"Jack, you're suffering from a fucking dual personality disorder, you should see a doctor," she told him.

"I would if I could," he pleaded, "Misha you've got to understand! I- I'm the biggest criminal in this city. I can't exactly go to the-"

"Then turn yourself to the police!" she interrupted him.

"Jack, do you have any idea how serious this is?" she shrieked. "I thought the Joker was you! I thought you were crazy and fucking brilliant and narcissistic enough to know what you were doing! I knew you were a menace to society, I didn't know you were a danger to everyone around you!"

"How does that make a difference?" he asked her, he too getting angry. "You never gave a rat's ass to what I did until you realized that I might be a danger to you! What does that say about you?"

"That I'm a selfish, self-centered bitch who'd do anything to stay alive. You know that," she hissed. "I knew your wife, did you know?" she told him, enraged. "I met her the day she found out that she was pregnant and she believed in you Jack. How could you kill her?"

"Oh, so that's where this is coming from!" he sneered, his voice taking a more high- pitched tone. "You think that by realizing that you know her, you owe it to her to get some form justice for her? That's rich! Just last month, you could have killed her anyway!"

Her eyes widened slightly but she didn't say anything.

"Oh, I noticed," he informed, "I could,  _ah,_  tell how much you hated her. What's wrong now? Where's all that hate, huh? Gone the moment your life is threatened? That's pathetic."

"At least I am human enough to feel obligated," she stated, "You feel nothing for her."

"Ha ha ha ha, because I am  _soooo_  obligated to her," he barked, "she's dead Misha. Get over it."

She said nothing and instead moved towards her bookshelf. She wanted nothing to do with him once he'd become the Joker. That guy was pointless to talk to.

He wasn't backing off.

"Do you know who else is dead though?" he asked her, in a sing- song tone. "Framton Harwinton."

Misha's heart stopped momentarily.

She dropped the book she was holding.

"Wh-what?" she asked slowly, hating the fact that she was unable to prevent her voice from going unsteady.

Fram was...  _dead?_

"Ah yes," the Joker sang, "poor fellow. Took it well though. Almost no resistance. He thought that if he'd do as I say, he'd live."

She was beyond angry.

"WHY WOULD YOU THAT?" she shrieked. "HE HAD A CHILD! A FAMILY, WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"

Joker waved it off dismissively. "He was getting too close to you," he stated, "I don't. Like. Sharing what's mine."

Misha took a sharp breath before saying, "That's it. I'm done. I'm calling the police."

She made her way across the room towards the telephone but the Joker stopped her.

"What're you gonna tell them?" he asked her. "That you've been keeping Gotham's Most Wanted? Darlin', you're an accomplice now. You'd go to jail." He snickered at that, like it was all a joke.

Misha realized that he was right. She'd become an accomplice the moment she'd let him stay with her. What had she been thinking? She should have kicked him out the moment he healed.

She looked at his direction to see him smirking. He was right, but she wasn't going to let him have the last word.

"You can go screw yourself," she scoffed, moving towards the kitchen but he stopped her, pulling her back and slamming her against the wall. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she shouted and that's when he lost it.

_"What the fuck is wrong with me?"_  he asked, cracking at the end. "Me? Why darling, you have  _no_  idea what's wrong with me!" He leaned closer. "Wanna know? Ever since I met ya girlie, I've been dreaming-" His hand slithered up her waist, his grip tightening. "Let's get this straight. I don't love you. I never did. All I wanted was to get laid because honestly, have seen me? I hadn't been laid in a while. That's all I wanted from you."

"I'm never going to let you get near me again," Misha growled, trying in vain to get away from him. "I'll never willingly-"

"That's funny, I don't need you to be willing," he interrupted. He slapped her hard across the face and for the first time, in a long time, she felt scared. She was scared as to what he was going to do with her. He was going to rape her, and he did try. He'd managed to tear her pajamas completely. He was almost going to get it when she'd yelled, begged him to stop.

It took him a moment. Or two, Misha didn't know.

He stopped.

He suddenly looked down at her in confusion.

It occurred to Misha that she'd gone through the Joker to him.

It would have been a sweet moment if it weren't for the fact that he had, well, tried to violate her.

"Misha, what..." he started saying but then stopped when he took the scene before him in. "I'm so sorry- I didn't realize. I didn't know," he tried as he often did when the Joker left. He bent down to help her but she scrambled away from him.

"Stay the fuck away from me," she whispered.

"I'm sorry," he pleaded, "I didn't- it was him. Misha, please-"

"Get out," she hissed, "Get out of my house right now or swear to god Jack, I'll kill you."

"Misha, please," he went on, "You know it's not my fault. I- I love you, you know that. You can't do this to me! He- he'll consume me again you know that." He was trembling but she valued her life more.

"Just go Jack," she said pleadingly. "I can't do this anymore. I don't know about you but I have a life. I can't- I can't stay close to something this dangerous. I'm a survivor not a fighter. It's over, I'm sorry."

"I'll do anything," he said, "I'll- I'll see the doctor. I'll turn myself in- Please don't kick me out. I feel complete when I'm with you."

She shook her head, standing up. He offered his help but she declined, using the wall as her support. Thank god her shirt was till her mid thighs. "No Jack," she told him. "It's done. You don't need the doctor. You don't need anyone. No one can help you. You know that."

He was on the verge of tears- as was she but for a completely different reason- she was crying because she realized how fucked up and stupid she was. "Please, if you stay with me, I'll get better," he insisted.

Misha showed him the door, "No you won't. Jack, this is good bye."

She was about to close the door on him but he stopped her. "Misha, think about this," he tried one last time.

"I have," she told him. "This is good bye. Fix yourself. And please don't come back."

And with that she shut the door, collapsing next to it the moment she'd bolted and locked it.

 


	16. Fram

For ten days and eleven nights, she did not leave her apartment.

She didn't eat because honestly,  _what was the point?_

She had usually never felt hungry to begin with and when she did, it was only just a teeny bit of hunger which a bottle of liquor could easily relinquish. Besides, she only ever cooked for _him. He_  was the one who needed food anyway. She didn't. In fact, before  _he_  came into her miserable life, she had never bothered with it. None of it mattered anyway.

If Gods be willing, she'd live and she knew for a fact that she would live.

Because that's what her life was like. She was too cowardly to even end it because for some twisted reason, she wanted to make it out of her pathetic situation. It was her last year in uni. She wanted to live long enough to graduate at the very least.

She didn't realize the time fly though. One minute she was wallowing in her own vortex of never ending pain and the next, well, her incredibly stubborn friend was violently knocking at her door.

It didn't help that she was suffering a violent hang over. Not that she often wasn't these days. As she shuffled towards the door, it briefly hit her that- well, she hadn't exactly showered or bothered changing her clothes in a week.

She hoped she didn't stink of something.

"What'd ya want?" she grumbled once she'd opened the door. She leaned against it heavily. Iona just stared at her in shock- no doubt due to her lack of maintenance and she because, really- what else could she do but stare? She didn't exactly like talking all that much. She had, after all, remained quiet for a whole ten days.

"You look like someone from a zombie movie," Iona was the first one to quip.

She frowned. "No I don't."

"Great, she's being bitter again," she groaned before moving past her inside the apartment.

"The hell have you done to this place!" she exclaimed looking around. "Where's Jack? I need to talk to him."

Misha looked heavenwards, pained. "He's gone," she told her.

Iona looked at her questioningly. "What?"

"Yup, he's gone."

"What do you mean he's gone?"

God, she really wanted to kill her when she did that.

"I mean, he's left," she said very, very slowly.

"Why?"

"Oh god, Iona!" she said through gritted teeth, "He's gone as in we broke up."

Her most particular (stupid) friend gasped at that.

"But you guys were perfect," Iona exclaimed in her typical dazed fashion.

"Yeah, well, sucks to be you right now," Misha shrugged.

"Is that why you're a mess?" Iona asked her.

She sighed.

"Don't worry, I know just what to do to you!" her crazy Hispanic friend went on. "Let's go shopping."

"Ah, no," Misha was quick to intercept. "I have-" She quickly racked her brain for something but ten long days seemed to have rusted the system or something. "I- I don't feel like going outside," she ended up admitting. "I'm way too tired for it."

Iona nodded sadly. "I get why you're feeling this way, wanna watch bad rom-coms to feel better?"

Even though she didn't particularly like it, it did seem like a better idea than shopping. So she nodded quickly before she changed her mind.

* * *

There was really no plus side to his leaving her.

Except for one.

A week after university had started, Dina had contacted her. Initially she hadn't wanted to speak to her because, well, her brother had been killed by  _him_  because of her but as the conversation progressed, she found out that that wasn't true.

Apparently his threats were empty.

Of course, the Joker had attacked Fram. He'd wanted information though and after letting his goons beat him up, had let him live. Unfortunately for Fram, he'd broken a few ribs and a leg in the ordeal and had ended up in the hospital.

"Which hospital?" Misha asked her immediately.

"Gotham General," Dina replied.

The next day, Misha visited him, all dressed up and looking nice- something which she hadn't done for a while.

It felt good though, she admitted as she walked down the street towards the hospital. She could pretend that she was normal and that things were alright. Heavens knew that things weren't just that. Alright, that is.

She went to reception and was soon guided to Fram's room. She ended up thinking it over a hundred times before knocking the door and when she did, she was met with a sound of giggles.

It occurred to her that his daughter-  _oh, what was her name? Milan? Melissa? She didn't remember_ \- was probably with him too.

Misha sighed. She wasn't sure if she wanted to see him with anyone else around. His daughter was after all, four. Maybe she would make the situation less awkward than it was? Misha already knew that things would get awkward due to her guilt and that-

"Oh hey Mish!" Dina's voice came out of literally no where.

She jumped. "Oh god, you scared me!"

The other girl grinned. "Ha ha, are you here to see Fram?" she asked her. Misha nodded. "Well c'mon!" With that, and without bothering to knock the door because that's how Dina and Fram rolled, she pushed the door open.

"Look who's here Framton Nuttel Harwinton," she person in question looked up from the children's book he was reading and sat straighter.

"Hey," she said, walking up to him. His daughter was eyeing her curiously. Clearly the youngest Harwinton had forgotten about her too.

"Hello Misha," he said formally in a complete un-Fram's- traditional- greeting- of- Misha- kind of way. If she didn't know better, she would say that he was a little annoyed at her. It was not obvious but the slight frown that marred his features and the hardening of his jaw told her all she needed to know.

He knew.

Suddenly, she felt so very scared. She didn't normally feel scared in her life but for the past few months, she had found herself experiencing it very, very often. She hadn't expected to feel terrified though. But then, she should have known that Jack would say something to him. How could he not? He was jealous as, well,  _fuck._

Not for the first time in the week alone did she wonder why she was so stupid.

"So how're you?" she asked him, suddenly feeling very timid. Fram was giving her a sort of hard look, the kind one gave to their secretary or friend when they'd done something stupid like misplacing an important document or letting a secret slip. She tried avoiding eye contact, focusing instead on Dina who seemed to rant on and on about the world's most random things. Finally- or rather, unfortunately- Fram suggested that she could take Melanie out for an ice cream. Both females were ridiculously overjoyed at that idea and left immediately, to Misha's grief.

That left both of them alone.

Silence overtook them as Misha once again tried to look anywhere but at him. She knew he'd be disappointed. He'd think she was stupid or masochistic or something along the lines. Worst of all, he'd pity her and that was something which her pride and ego (what was left of it anyway) would never accept. Truth be told, she was more afraid of what she'd do than him an-

"Okay, stop."

She blinked, looking at him in surprise.  _What?_

"Stop it," he was saying, "I can practically see your brain working."

She smiled slightly at that. His tone was a little friendly. That had to meet something,  _right?_

"I know," he went on and she sighed.

"Stop giving me the silent treatment."

"I'm not. I just don't know what to say," she replied honestly.

"Good," he said a little more stiffly, "because I don't want you to say anything. For once in your life, you're going to listen to me."

She remained quiet.

"You're going to move out of your apartment," he went on, "and no buts about that. You're going to move out and move in with me. I've got plenty of room and frankly, you can't take care of yourself. The last thin we need is that psycho trying to get back with you."

"But I-"

He gave her a pointed look and she shut up.

"I won't tell anyone because really, it's a mistake. I understand why though and I won't judge. My father that mistake and look what happened. I love you Misha, I always have and this time, I'm gonna marry you."

She stared at him, not believing what he had just said to her. After all, once upon a time she might have even wanted to hear that. She had always liked Fram; heck, she remembered having the biggest crush on him when she was eleven and they even did have a brief- very brief phase where she knew he liked her back and they were on the verge of dating despite their five year age difference but then her parents had died and, well, she had better things to worry about. Why was he telling her this after such a long time?

He'd married someone else, he had a child. Why did he care? More importantly, would the Joker allow it?

And that is when she realized that she would never truly be rid of the Joker. He'd haunt her forever no matter what she did or where she went. She couldn't let Fram get into this. He'd end up dying and really, that would not help anyone.

"No," she blurted out, "No, I don't want that."

He frowned. "What?"

"No, Fram, I'm done with this," she said, "you can't throw this at me. I have so much to deal with. You can't ask this of me."

"So it's true then," he said, a little cynically, "you  _do_  love him."

She felt herself blush at that because even though she wouldn't call it love- because that was an emotion she could never feel for someone but her parents- she did feel something for the madman. Something big enough to affect her as it had. Fram on the other hand-

"I don't know," she said coldly, "but I'm not going to be someone's replacement because that's what I am, aren't I?"

"No-"

"Hear me out," she interrupted him, "because no one hears me out. I am not a replacement. If you cared about me you would have come back and looked me up which you didn't Framton. You didn't care. You never called or wrote to me or anything and I don't need that. You're a friend but I don't feel anything and how could you even think that I'd consider marrying you after I've given up hope on any kind of relationship."

"Look," he tried to take it all back, "I'm sorry-"

"And I'm sorry for coming here today," she said before leaving, ignoring the fact that he was calling after her as she left.

She was done with the Harwintons.

 


	17. Meetings and Parties

Whoever gave him the idea of the robbery was brilliant and considering how he was the one to do so, Jack reckoned that he was brilliant. It was going to be like a game of dominoes though at the end, he'd be the one standing. Alone- because really, that's what he always was, wasn't he?

The plan itself was very elaborate and knowing the risks and ifs that existed, any sane person would back off immediately. Misha would call him crazy but wasn't he just that- crazy? He had to be crazy if he thought that this would be a success and it was because that's how the world went. The people who deserved happiness and success didn't get it. Instead, it was people like those, those insanely greedy mob members who got whatever they wanted to.

Jack didn't like the mob for a number of reasons.

The first being that it was the mob that had tricked him into going to that chemical plant the die he'd lost everything. If the mob was honest, he wouldn't be here right now. Why, he'd gone ahead with the crime- the very first he'd ever committed in his entire life just for Jeannie and they hadn't the honesty in them to give him what they owed.

They were pathetic, the mob was. All they cared about was making money and so he was going to take that very thing away from them today.

Specially that one guy- Maroni.

Oh, they had a score to settle. Not that he'd kill him immediately. He'd keep him to last at the very end. Jack wanted to cherish the way he'd kill him. He'd kill him slowly and painfully and-

But that was an issue for another day. Right now, he had to focus on the plan. As the bank came into view, he couldn't deny the fact that he was getting excited by the minute.

It excited him to know that the people in there would soon get what they deserved. He knew for a fact that a lot of rich people had their bank accounts there despite of the fact that well, it was a mob bank. Those kind of people deserved to die too. But he'd get to them soon enough.

The project itself was quick. The people he'd hired were stupid and to the surprise of those who'd thought his idea to be stupid, he'd succeeded. That was the beauty of his plans. They were freaking complicated but they always got on because nothing in the world was perfect or fair. Soon enough he was making his way into his own liar- a warehouse where the remaining of his goons- his actual goons, the guys who died were just pawns after all.

One of them had had potential though- the one who'd figured out his plan. He was tempted to keep him alive. Almost. But then he'd yelled at him about the counting thing and Jack really didn't like people questioning that since his mother had taught him how to count and she was a sensitive topic for him.

And so that guy had to die.

The end.

For him.

It was just getting started for Jack though.

"Boss, "one of his buddies called him

"Yeah- what, Donald," he said, turning to the one who was addicted to cocaine.

"Urm, the mob's havin' a meeting," he informed him dutifully. Jack could see the slight shiver in his demeanour and reckoned he'd give him his shot for the day.

After they'd gone to those idiots.

He knew Misha hated drugs- she'd told him so a number of times. He didn't exactly like the idea either- but, hey- he was just supplying it them. Speaking of her-

Jack groaned inwardly.

He missed her but for her sake was keeping away. He knew he'd scared her but at the end of the day, he hadn't exactly gone up and done something to her had he? And yet, she'd been traumatised and refused to let him stay. He blamed society for that. Society and its fucked up 'moral codes.' He was going to plunge this city into anarchy, destroy every single code there was in this hypocritical society and when he was done, he would finally be able to go back to her because then she'd understand why he did what he did. The fault wasn't in him. It was the damned society and once Misha saw that she'd forgive him.

She always did.

Jack decided to not think about her as he entered the venue of the mob meeting.

She only made him feel guilty about what he was doing.

But he had to.

Good people had to do bad stuff to make things right.

At least, that's what he had to do all his life.

* * *

It was a bad day.

Not that most of her days had been good these days anyway.

But still, it was a bad day, Misha decided as she dragged herself out of her Economics class. She'd gotten a letter from administration saying that she was losing her scholarship because of her below than average performance (she didn't understand how they arrived to that conclusion that quickly since it had only been a month since classes had started) and was required to start paying by the end of the next semester.

It sucked really, but she'd shrugged it off.

Lately she'd lost the motivation to do anything.

Stuffing the letter into her rucksack, she made her way towards the Student Notice board, hoping that there would be any announcement about a job opening or something. There wasn't anything like that. However, there was something else- something that terrified and yet strangely disappointed her at the same time. There was a picture of Jack, as the Joker, on the front cover of a newspaper. He'd broken into a bank or something, and had blown up the place. Turns out it was a mob bank and the police had been trying to bust them for weeks. He'd foiled their plans. That was weeks ago.

_Typical,_  she found herself thinking as she made her way out of the campus.

She didn't know what she was expecting though.

She couldn't have seriously thought that he'd think about what she said, could she?

But no, she had to.

And so, despite of her urges, she found herself going to the nearest grocery store just to buy the day's newspapers to see what he was up to.

Because Fram was right.

She really did love him and was an idiot for admitting it but it hurt and maybe that was the burden she was supposed to live with. She would die of guilt knowing that she could have called the police, turn him in when she could have and yet had let the man walk all over her.

To her surprise, she didn't find anything about him in the day's paper. Instead there was a major headlines about how under Harvey Dent, the police had prosecuted over 500 criminals after Lau- whoever he was- testified against the mob. In fact, Lau had been hand- delivered to the police by Batman himself.

"Woah," she said aloud causing the man beside her to look over.

"Some news huh?" he said.

"Yeah- they're catching all of 'em," she said.

He smiled. "This city's gonna see some good days soon," he mused before walking off.

It was only after he left that, upon turning the next page, did she realize that she'd met one of the policemen responsible for the conviction. One Lieutenant James Gordon.

Misha shook her head at the irony of it and made her way towards the counter to pay for the paper and a few other necessities which she'd decided to buy as an afterthought. There was only a person in front of her in the queue when the TV screen above the counter hit a headline and suddenly the Joker came into view.

Misha felt her heartbeat faster, in panic and the unpreparedness she felt at seeing him so suddenly. To her utmost horror, he was torturing a guy dressed up as Batman. By the looks of it, he was enjoying it too. She felt nauseous as she along with the rest of the people in the store watched him kill the poor man and then- to her surprise- he threatened to kill more if the Batman didn't step forward and reveal his identity.

By then, she was really starting to feel sick. It were these things about him which confused her. She felt conflicted. On one hand she really liked him because he was all and so much more than what she could have ever hoped for and on the other, he was crazy as shit.

She still believed that he needed a therapist or some form of treatment because honestly, she'd witnessed it first hand that he and the Joker were two different beings.

She wondered if she ought to tell the police.

She was tempted to but by the time she'd reached her apartment, she decided to keep the matter at bay for another day. She had other things to worry about. Like the fact that a car that suspiciously looking like- heck, it was Dan's car had been parked near her apartment.

"Can they not a get a hint?" she muttered under her breath as she quickly climbed the stairs to her accommodation. The Harwintons had been bugging her a lot recently. Why couldn't they understand that all she wanted was to be left alone? Ever since the whole thing with Fram, one or the other Harwinton would be popping around her place. They were so meddlesome!

Misha had never thought that she'd ever detest them like she had begun.

"What do you want Dan?" she asked him, the moment she stepped into her apartment. Another thing that annoyed her greatly was the fact that the Harwinton would some how end up inside her apartment despite the fact that she did not give them a house key. She'd even changed her locks thrice since but some how they'd end up inside.

She'd given up the effort after that, reckoning that even though they were annoying as hell they really just wished good for her and would never be careless enough to leave her front door unlocked to initiate a potential robbery or something. Honestly, that sounded more like her than any or all of the Harwintons combined.

"Well, I've got an invitation for you," he told her.

Misha eyed him sceptically.

"What sort of invitation?" she questioned him.

"Well, Bruce Wayne," he explained, "you know the man who bought the company and offered you place in the chair committee even though you don't want it, is having a fund raiser in honour of Harvey Dent tonight. Now I know you're not all for socializing but Misha, it's a great opportunity to meet people. Not to mention Mr. Way-"

"I don't do social events Dan," she told him uninterested.

"Yes, bu-"

"And I'm never going to interact with the kind of people at Mr Wayne's party," she concluded, "I don't want to attend it."

"Mr Wayne specifically asked for you," he told her. "He wants to talk about potential business deals."

"I sold my company and gave away the money to charity," she said coldly, "there's no money on me. What potential business deal could he _possibly_  ask of me?"

Dan sighed and she smiled satisfied. Past experiences told her that whenever Dan sighed, he'd admitted defeat.

"That's why I want you to come," he said, "Mr Wayne's representative wouldn't quit bugging us."

Misha raised a brow- a habit she'd unknowingly picked up from Jack. "Huh?"

"I just need you to come to talk to him about it," he told her.

Knowing Dan, she knew it was probably a trick or something but he'd caught her interest. Why the hell would Bruce Wayne be interested in her enough to bug the former directors of her now dismantled company?

It didn't make sense.

"Okay," she agreed, "But one condition..."

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Dan said for the millionth time since they'd arrived. "Why are you wearing a suit?"

"Because it's the twenty first century and I can wear it," she answered calmly.

"All the women in the room-"

"None of the women in the room are even minutely comparable to me now are they?" she mused.

Dan and her had arrived at the venue of the fund raiser- the penthouse above the Wayne Industries HQ. At the very moment, Bruce Wayne arrived at the venue on a helicopter, making one of the most dramatic entrances she'd ever seen in her life. She had to hand it to the guy- he sure loved the attention he was getting.

She briefly wondered why he'd wanted to meet her. There was literally nothing in common between them. She didn't remember ever meeting him as a child or even her parents knowing someone with the last name Wayne. Thus, the only aspirations he could have had to meet her (by turning out to be some long lost friend or something whom she had conveniently forgotten about) seemed invalid. Dan had told her that he was into charity as well but honestly- she didn't understand how that could be an inspiration though.

Things were really complicated.

She let Dan do the meet and greet as people came up to them and soon enough she was meeting the man himself, Bruce Wayne.

"So you're Misha Alau'din," he exclaimed once they'd met. "Wow, you're younger than I thought you'd be."

_"Excuse me?"_  She wasn't trying to be rude but she couldn't hold back.  _What?_

She definitely hadn't expected that from him. She was expecting some- well, she hadn't known what she was expecting now, had she?

Bruce Wayne looked highly amused. "No offence, " he was quick to say, "You don't look like someone who'd want to give away all that money to charity. Honestly, at your age I would have gone cruising or something."

She smiled a little at that because, okay, that was funny. A tiny bit. Not much.

"I wanted a fresh start," she told him truthfully even though previously she had no such wishes to.

He smiled at that. "That's one way to put it," he said. "Say, why don't you come to my office tomorrow? We can talk about stuff. I won't lie. I'd love to have the name Alau'din on my board. I know you didn't want to be part of my board but I think we can talk about it an-"

"Oh no," she interrupted, "I don't want to be part of it."

"I don't think you understand what I'm offering here," he told her.

"There's nothing to understand," she insisted, "I don't want to be part of it. I've thought about. All I want to do now is make through college. Seriously."

"Really?" He frowned.

Misha nodded.

"Interesting, I've never had someone turn me down like that," he admitted.

Misha smiled, and this time it was sincere. "I don't mean to be rude but I couldn't care less about that kind of stuff. I'm more of a backstage work kind of person. I'd rather do all the work and get no credit rather than the other way around."

"Ah, then who am I supposed to give that one remaining seat to?" he wondered aloud.

She gestured towards Dan who had gone off to talk to someone else. "Him," she told him. "He's honest and good at what he does and most importantly, he's loyal. He's done so much for my dad and I- to a point that it kind of annoys me at times. He deserves it."

"And what do you deserve?"

"Nothing," she answered more honestly than she would have liked. There was something about Bruce Wayne. It was like this strange, positive aura radiating through him. He made her feel okay. In a brotherly kind of way. It was weird.

He grinned at her. "I hope we meet again. You're an interesting person," he told her.

"You'd be surprised," she said.

He was gone after that. Misha immediately turned to Dan.

"We're done talking, can we go now?"

Dan made a disapproving noise but agreed with her anyway. And so, just minutes before the Joker crashed the fund raiser, Misha left feeling quite positive for the first time in quite a few years.

 


	18. Final Good Bye

Misha was beyond surprised at the revelation that the Joker had attacked- yes, attacked- the very event she and Dan had attended. She couldn't help but sigh in relief though. Heavens knew what would happened if she'd been there when he'd shown up. At least she could say that she had some mislead gaurdian angel watching over her because that was, like, the only explanation she had to her sudden luck the day before.

Dan was shocked too. Though not in the same way she was. "Thank god Batman arrived to save the day," he rattled on as he dropped her off to college. Even though Misha had no idea how she ended up being in the same car as him (or how she ended up at the Hansotias' in the first place.), she could say that it had something to do with the previous night's event.

After all, they were only out of the parking lot when they'd heard the shots fired and then first handedly witnessed the action. Seeing Jack-  _the Joker,_  her brain reminded her solemnly- from the open window/balcony (whatever it was that Bruce Wayne had going on) had scared her. What scared her even more was that he happened to be pushing someone out of the full length window.

Thank goodness, Dan's chauffer had sped off at that very moment and the girl's fate was left unknown to her. That is until they'd arrived- and yes, now it was coming back to her- at Dan's house and well, were informed of the entire ordeal.

Fram had been furious, to say the least.

Why, he had even scolded his own father (much to the delight of his mother who agreed that Daniel Harwinton never listened to anyone) for compromising both his and Misha's- _specially Misha's,_  he'd said- safety.

And then he'd basically begun to lecture for listening to his happy-go-lucky father when she decided that she'd had enough of Fram's hero moment and walked off to find Dina.

They had not spoken since but in the morning at breakfast, Fram had gone out of his way to make her feel welcome which, of course, made her feel worse.

She should have known that he would not back down so easily which, to be frank, was complicating her situation.

But that was this morning. Misha focused on Daniel who had begun to speak to her.

"He really cares about you," he said, referring to the subject of her thoughts.

She tried playing dumb but decided against it. These people  _knew_  her- as much as that disturbed her- no doubt, Dan would see through it.

"I know," she nodded.

"Have you considered…" he tried to bring it up but Misha interrupted him by groaning.

"No, I have not," she stated, "because I have other things to do. Like, I dunno-  _studying._  I don't want to get married."

Dan sighed, admitting defeat and silence overtook them.

Uncomfortable silence and she felt guilty about answering so harshly. He only wished her well, right?

"It's not that there's a problem with the arrangement," she clarified, "it's just that… I feel like I should accomplish something before I settle down. Like, this isn't the nineteenth or pre partition era and as a woman, there's much more to life then getting married. I'm getting an opportunity which my mum, grandmother and women before them had and I'd like to do something with it."

Dan hummed an agreeing response and Misha felt a little bit better.

* * *

"So, community service," Iona brought it up as smoothly as she could given her dear bitter friend's crankiness and impenetrable focus on the day's lecture.

On cue, she looked up from her paper and frowned. "Really? You're going to ask me  _that_ during a Mormont lecture?"

Iona sighed. Professor Mormont's lessons - or rather, the Mormont lectures, as they were known around campus- were legendary. Being one of the top economists in the tri state area, the man had an incredibly fast paced- if not scatter brained- outlook towards economics and would more often than not delve into the current affairs and point out everything- literally  _everything_ \- wrong with the financial world today.

Students loved him because, well, his lectures were captivating and took interesting to a whole new level and it was incredibly hard to get into his classes because they'd fill up quickly.

They had Mormont first thing every Tuesdays and Wednesdays so that was chill. Honestly, Iona found his lessons a little too, well, over the top. Misha, on the other hand, was usually following each and every breath of his.

And as expected, she didn't talk to Iona for the remaining lesson and it was only after they were out of the campus that she addressed the topic once more.

"Why'd you ask?"

"There's this docks clean up thing coming up and I thought that we could go," she told her enthusiastically in a vain effort to get Misha to agree. Misha never agreed to anything she suggested these days. Specially since Jack left.

"I'll think about it," she said as they walked towards the Town Hall. A police parade was being held in the memory of Commissioner Loeb who had died yesterday thanks to the Joker.

Even though a lot of people were not attending given the obvious threat, she'd decided to attend it. She liked the commissioner. He was nice. He'd spoken at GSU at Speech Day once she'd immediately taken a liking to him. And she didn't like many people. It only seemed fair that she pay homage to him.

And by the looks of it, Iona was doing so too.

"There's a lot of security out here," her friend muttered as the two settled to stand with the bystanders near the mayor's podium. Misha nodded. She was too busy observing Jim Gordon- the officer she'd met- and Harvey Dent. Between the two of them, she wondered which one was next. Knowing the Joker as well as she did, she knew Mr Dent's life was in danger and briefly wondered if she really ought to go to the police. But then decided against it when she realized that they would probably bring her in for questioning. And she'd rather not let that happen.

As the parade moved on, she could not help but feel that something bad was about to happen. The honour guards were doing the customary march thingy that involved waving their guns around and shooting and Misha reckoned it was probably that that alarmed her. She was, after all, not a huge fan of guns and stuff like that. It was only when they turned to face the audience did she notice something strange.

A few of the policemen were, _well,_  they looked familiar. She frowned.  _Where had she seen them before?_

She shook her brain as she continued observing the officers until-

_No. Fucking. Way_.

Misha's pulse quickened when her eyes landed on Jack. For his part, he was positively smirking at her. She could have died at that very moment.

She knew what was coming. And he knew that she knew. And he was daring her to go, stop him. And she couldn't. She was frozen at that one moment even though she knew that she ought to do something about what was coming. She'd felt helpless many times in her life but never like this.

It was that moment that she realized that she had the power to stop him. She could stop him. This was not the Jack she knew. This was a murderer on a rampage and he had to be stopped. Him and all the criminals in town. Every person who'd ever committed fraud and any other kind of crime. They all needed to be stopped. And he was the key.

With that determination, she turned around to find a cop, someone who'd hear her story. Jim Gordon sounded friendly enough.

But the minute she did so, she heard the shots fired.

* * *

_**"HARVEY DENT IS BATMAN!"**_  screamed the headlines, twenty three hours later.

Misha tried to avoid it but Fram was watching her expectantly.

They were silent for a good few minutes. Around them, life went on as it should in the cafe. Waiters were getting and taking orders, the clatter of cutlery, the whispers and sometimes bursts of conversation, the mumble of the television in the background- it was a typical day. AS typical as days could be in Gotham City. There was one difference though.

There was a splatter of excitement in the air. In three hours, the DA was going to be sent to county to be sentenced for all the 'crimes' he'd done as Batman. The entire Gotham City was waiting for the Joker's next move. He'd gotten his demand after all. Would he finally release the city from his reign of terror?

Even though the obvious answer was no, everyone was still interested.

After all, this was the epic showdown between Batman and the Joker and for Gotham's sake, everyone wanted the Joker to win.

"If you want to do something, you might as well do it now," he said suddenly.

Misha looked up from her meal- dinner at this point since it was around five o'clock.

"Huh?"

"Don't play dumb, I know what you want to do Misha," he stated flatly.

She sighed.

"I know, I'm just really nervous."

"Look, I know it takes a lot of courage to do something like this but- hey, it's the right thing."

She smiled at that.

"Well, at least you'll be here for me right?"

It was his turn to smile at her.

"Not really," he admitted.

She frowned and he let out an exasperated sigh.

"I really have to spell it out for you, haven't I?" he grumbled, as he pulled out a few documents from his coat pocket.

They were airline tickets for England. The flight number suggested that it was to leave in two hours.

"You're leaving?" she asked him surprised.

"Technically everyone's leaving," he stated. "I think we've lived Gotham long enough. Wouldn't say I'll miss it. London's much more entertaining than this place'll ever be."

She nodded but realized that there were six tickets instead of five.

"Why's there an extra ticket..." Her voice trailed off when she realized it.

He still wanted her to go with him. After everything- her pushing him away, the Joker ordeal, he still wanted her to come. It touched her heart but-

"You know I can't," she said. "I want to do this. All my life, I've run away from my mess. This time I want deal with it."

He smiled knowingly. "I knew you'd do the right thing," he said, taking the tickets and ripping one of them apart.

"Everyone's probably at the airport waiting for me," he went on, standing up. "And knowing Dina, she's probably bugging poor Melanie."

She stood up as well. "So, this is good bye then?"

He nodded and stepped forward to hug her and for once, she returned with. When they pulled apart, she was on the verge of crying.

"Awww, is Mish crying?" he teased her and she tried denying it, only to fail miserably.

"I really wish we'd met under some different circumstances," she admitted. "I've been so horrible to you and everyone. You guys were just trying to help."

"Everyone but Mum," he pointed out and they shared a laugh at that. The Mrs. Harwinton was never quite close to her despite the fact that Misha was her husband's god daughter and that her children and she had grown up together.

"Take care of yourself," he instructed her, "and when Jack gets back to senses, call me- I'd like to talk to him."

She laughed at that though it was bitter sweet. She knew he was trying to make her feel better but for some reason she found it hard to believe that Jack would ever regain his senses again.

That was partly the reason why she had decided to go to the police. Heavens knew she should have gone a long time back.

"I will," she humored him nonetheless.

After a final hug, Fram took his leave. She waited, watching him get into a car- no doubt hired to take him to the airport- until it was no longer in sight. Then she left a rather generous tip for the server (despite the fact that Fram, being the gentleman that he was, had already paid) and made her way for the police station.

It was now or never.

 


	19. Confession

Tracy Harold, the receptionist at the police station was having a heck of a day.

What with Harvey Dent coming out as Batman, the office had been flooded with calls, mails, emails, hate mail and what not. It actually made her wonder if it was worth it and whether she ought to simply quit. She internally laughed at the notion the moment it came to her mind. She could never quit though. She was in too deep. Working with the police was the only way she'd stay safe. After working there for more than sixteen years, she had somehow become one of Gordon's most trusted people. Why, it was only her and a few other people who even knew about the fact that he had faked his death!

And that was one piece of news that would not be getting out until the time was right. She and her comrades had a raw thirst for justice and so would rather die than sell out Gordon.

Still, it was safe to say that she did get tired of her job sometimes. Like today, for instance. She cracked knuckles and stifled a yawn as she quickly typed away responses on her desktop computer. The people of Gotham sure were enthusiastic today. One would think it was a public holiday. SO busy she was in her task that she did not notice a tall, scrawny girl walk into the building until she'd reached her desk.

"Excuse me," she said to the receptionist of the police station. Misha had earlier found out that Gordon used to worked here and for some reason she thought that she could, well, trust these guys. After all, if the late Lieutenant could trust them, she could too, right? "I'd like to see a police officer."

The receptionist looked up, briefly looked at the girl before saying, "Sorry kid, but we're quite packed today. You can leave a message with me."

"No," she insisted, "you don't understand. I need to see a police officer."

"They're all busy tonight hun," she told the girl. "They're all busy transporting Dent, making sure that that lunatic wouldn't do something to him. In fact, they're probably-" she looked up from her desk to find that it was already dark-  _oh yes, they were probably at it,_  she thought- "at it as we speak. Give me your message darl'. I promise to pass it on."

She looked unconvinced and Tracy sighed.  _Kids these days_ , she thought shaking her head but stopped abruptly when she noticed the media outside.  _Why, they hadn't caught him already had they?_  she wondered.

But a few her colleagues, including Gordon himself walked in and she knew they'd caught the Joker. It was finally over.

The girl looked shocked to say the least when she saw Gordon but was quick to jump on her feet.

"Now, you can't do that-" she began to call the girl but she'd already gone up to the man.

"Sir," Misha said to him, catching him off guard and surprised. There was a moment of confusion before he recognized her.

"Yes...?"

"I've got information on the Joker."

* * *

"Do you trust her?" the Batman asked him.

Gordon- or rather, Commissioner Gordon sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "She's come willingly hasn't she? There's got to be some truth in her words. Besides, what choice do we have? Rachel and Harvey are missing. We need as much information on him as we can get and she just so happens to have."

He nodded and Gordon brought her in. His eyes widened slightly when he realized who had entered.

Misha Alau'din.

Now that, he hadn't expected.

"Miss Alau'din," Gordon introduced her to the Batman but Bruce took off his mask just then- much to the Commissioner's surprise. He'd never done that before even when it was just the two of them. It had always been an unspoken truth between them. So why did he...?

Misha, for her part, was wide eyed.

"Bruce Wayne," he said, "but we've already met."

She said nothing but stared at him. Gordon joined him on the other side of the table and began, "So you say have information about the Joker?"

She nodded.

"And we should consider it why?"

"Because he's lived with me," she admitted.

A pregnant silence took over just then as the two processed the information. _The Joker had what?_

"It's true," she went on, "I just wished I'd come earlier."

Gordon and Bruce exchanged glances.

_Where was this coming from?_

"Tell us everything Miss Alau 'din," the commissioner urged, holding onto the very last of his self- control and patience, as he peered at the tall, emaciated woman who was absent mindedly picking at her fingernails. "And please make it fast, time is something we don't have right now, the life of two people depends on it!"

Misha closed her eyes and nodded quickly. She was nervous. Very nervous, bordering frightened. She focused all her energy on the core of her being hoping that this would be one of those moments when her mind would play tricks on her, taking her to places she'd rather not be but alas!- even after the much successful attempt, nothing happened. She did not find herself in her small, crappy apartment alone and away from the world. No, this was all real- and that is what scared her the most.

And just like that, Misha became all too aware of the people present in the room who were staring intently at her; Commissioner James Gordon and Batman. She sighed heavily before speaking, "I'm so sorry; I'm not usually one for words."

Batman chuckled. It was weird to see the Batman to chuckle but he had taken the mask off so it was technically Bruce Wayne laughing, though that did not help her much. He was still intimidating as shit.

"Umm, it started off a year ago," she began, thinking hard to remember the exact moment she had forfeited the little sanctuary she had built for herself. It was difficult, to say the least, to pin point the exact moment. "Or was it two years? Yeah, I think it started off somewhere in the second year of my university course. See, I don't exactly keep track of these things. Maybe 2006?" The men waited for her to continue all wearing the exact same calculating looks. It occurred to Misha that they were calculating the time that had passed. If she met the Joker in 2006 than it had to be three years or more; it did not seem like three years however, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

She was a different person now. He had made her a different person. Whether it was intentional or not, she did not know. Neither did she want to, she realized, reverting her gaze back to the wooden table. She liked what she had become. For the first time in maybe forever, she was comfortable in her own skin. She was not bitter, nor was she envious, jealous or any of those emotions anymore. She was just herself. And it felt good. It felt normal. He taught her the difference between right and wrong and what he was doing was wrong. And Misha had the power to stop it. Hence, the reason why she was here the first place.

She looked up at the men seated before her once more and took a deep breath. "Okay, it started off one afternoon when I got home from uni. He had somehow managed to enter my room- from the fire escape or something and was badly injured. Like he'd broken his leg and stuff and even though I knew he was a convicted criminal, I let him stay because it seemed unfair. You know, to call up the cops immediately. I thought I'd let him get better and then call the cops- just let him leave to because I didn't want to get caught up in his stuff."

She stopped, expecting either Bruce or Jim to call out on her but none of them did. None of them seemed to judging her either. _I could get used to that,_  she thought to herself before continuing her story.

"The media made it out to be like the Joker would never let anyone who'd crossed him live because really, he would kill anyone who turned against him and at that point, I just wanted to make it through college. So I let him stay, telling myself that I'd kick him out the moment he'd heal and honestly, by the looks of it, it seemed so. But then, I got to know him as a person. The entire time he lived with me, he wasn't the crazy mass murderer we all know. He was human, like the rest of us and I guess, I fell for that."

"Everything seemed alright. Everything was great because he was silent for what? Two years?" she asked.

"Two and a half," Gordon corrected her.

"Yeah, everything was fine. I actually allowed myself to believe that we'd stay that way forever," she went on, realizing how cheesy and stupid it sounded.  _What the fuck was wrong with her? Did she have a death wish? Harbouring feelings for the Joker like that, Jesus Christ!_

"But then his goons found us and he started to go back into the Joker persona. We had a fight because, you know, the way the Joker kills is brutal and people were dying and then I kicked him out. He hasn't contacted me since but I felt that I should tell you because things have gotten out of hand. I don't want him to kill anyone else. Speically Harvey Dent. He's done so much for this city. I couldn't let him undo all of that."

"You could have come to earlier," Gordon told her, "but I don't blame you. We can only imagine what you were going through."

"I was scared that he'd kill someone if I did," she admitted, "He'd already threatened to once."

Silence took over and then she remembered, "You know, Jack- that's his name- and the Joker are two different people."

Gordon frowned but this time Bruce Wayne asked her, "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, Jack doesn't remember anything that the Joker does," she elaborated. "He told me that himself. Sometimes the lines between the two blur but mostly, he has no idea."

"So you're telling me that he suffers from some kind of dual personality disorder?" Bruce asked her once more.

"Yes," she said.

He frowned. "So we can't prosecute him. We'll need to send him to Arkham," Gordon said.

"You could prosecute him, just make him see a therapist or something," she said before going on, "because that's the only way to fix him. Jack isn't the problem. He was willing to go through therapy- it's the Joker that's the issue. Once Jack's the Joker, there's no way to get him back."

"But both like you don't they?" Bruce asked her.

She felt her blush at that. _What sort of weird love triangle, whatever had she trapped herself in?_

"I'll keep that into account when I interrogate him," Jim said, "Would you like to be present there?"

She nodded. "Believe it or not, I still think there's a way to reach out to him. I think it's best if you guys tried to get through to Jack."

The commissioner nodded, exiting the room, leaving Bruce and Misha alone.

She felt awkward and continued to inspect her finger nails.

"So," the billionaire playboy (or so, she realized, he liked everyone to think) began, "what's going on?"

She smiled at his effort to make things, well, less strange.

"Nothing, just confessed that the Joker's basically my roomie," she decided to play along.

Despite the situation, Bruce chuckled. "Ah, you're good at this," he commented. Then, "So, you're graduating soon yeah?"

She nodded even though it was hard to believe. It was true though, she was about to graduate in a little more than a month's time and she had yet to set her priorities.

"Say, what was your major again?" he asked her and Misha frowned.  _Was he doing what she thought he was doing?_

"Uhh, business administration," she answered not sure of what was to come.  _He couldn't seriously be- It wasn't the time to-_

He passed a Wayne Industries card to her.

"We have a job opening," he told her before Gordon returned.

"Come on," he said, "We're going to interrogate the son of a bitch."

 


	20. Interrogation

_"You have nothing, nothing to threaten me with!"_ he cried, looking up at the Batman in front of him, "Nothing to do with all your strength!"

The vigilant gritted his teeth aggressively but said nothing. Instead he made his way to the door, throwing the chair which he had secured it with and stormed out. The Joker raised an eyebrow. This was unexpected. He had honestly expected much more of a fight in him. Who knew the Batman would throw a tantrum and run out like that?

He snickered. _Well,_  this certainly was unexpected. He whistled while waiting for him. Minutes passed and there was no Batman. He wondered how long it would take, considering how his friends had only minutes to live…

The door flung open and Batman stepped in. There was someone with him, he saw. Maybe Commissioner Gordon.

Only…

It wasn't Commissioner Gordon.

It was…

_Misha._

Jack's eyes widened at the sight. "Nothing to threaten you with?" the masked man asked him. He did not want to admit to himself but there was really no denying the fact that his heart had sunk when he saw-

He looked away, opting to focus on the floor rather than  _her_. She was not important. The Batman could kill (and he highly doubted it but-  _who knew?_ ) her for all he cared.

But still- he couldn't help but feel betrayed.

How could he have even thought for a second that she could be trusted? He should have killed her but no, he had to go and fall for her didn't he? Trust her with his secrets- what had she done to earn his trust anyway? She'd saved his life- once. He could have survived on his own too if it weren't for her. And yet…

No, he told himself as he burned a hole into the ground as he stared at it, she was not worth it. She was just a pawn. He'd kill her when he was through with this…  _right?_

He had never felt more hurt before in his life. It was worse than… hideous than….why, he couldn't draw any comparisons with the scenario!

He was shattered completely- the one woman he loved and  _this_ is what he got from her.

_I'm going to rip you apart Misha Alau' din,_ he swore to himself,  _I'll rip you into pieces._

"What's the matter?" the Batman was addressing him, no doubt revelling his moment of victory (it wouldn't last, he knew that for sure, whether Batsy did or not).

"Tell me where they are!" he growled pushing him against a wall.

"Wouldn't you want to know?" he smirked, his gaze finally landing and glaring at Misha.

"Tell me what you know." Batman was calm. He'd got it- right where it mattered. Bless this woman, she had managed to help them uncover the Joker's one and only weakness. The mad man let out a shriek startling Misha who said nothing, as she looked at him from behind Batman. The crusader was shielding her from him. Joker could have laughed from the irony if it wasn't for the situation they were in.

"Not until I talk to her," he said slowly.

"Not until you tell me where they are," the Bat was insistent.

With one last look at Misha, he shrugged. "Jeez," he said, "Why do you have to make it so complicated? You hit me, beat me, bring  _her_ ," he motioned to Misha with his chin, "here as if she can do anything about it. Can't you just let me do my part for once? Jeez, and I'm crazy huh?"

Batman gritted his teeth together, charging towards him. He grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up from where he was sprawled out on the ground. "Don't worry," he told him, shaking his head vigorously, "I'll tell you where they are, both of them." Batman stopped what he was doing immediately.

"And that's the point. You'll have to choose," Joker went on, "He's at 250 52nd Street… and she's on Avenue X at Cicero." Batman threw him off, leaving Misha in the room as he dashed out.

"Which one are you going after?" Gordon shouted, running out with a few officers. And then they were alone.

Well, as alone as they could be in this room anyway.

Misha cautiously walked up to him. "Are you alright?" she asked him, kneeling down beside him. He looked a mess and she was half tempted to leave him there but Bruce had said…

Jack opened his eyes slowly, anger overtaking his facial expressions. "You!" he cried, sitting up quickly. "You little bitch!" He pulled her by the hair and shoved her against the wall. Misha did not retaliate at all.

"Why would you do this to me?" He shouted at her. She wasn't saying anything still. He cupped her face into both of his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Hmmm?"

"Because what you're doing is wrong, Jack," she stated, "and because of that, it's over between us."

He frowned. "What? Are you crazy?"

She laughed bitterly. "Funny that coming from you." He smiled at her sense of humor before leaning in for a kiss. She did not respond either.

"I did it because he promised he'd let me see you to tell you," she told him.

He froze, his eyes widening.

"You're serious?" he whispered.

"I am," she told him. She could see no longer see that mad streak the Joker's eyes projected. Instead, there was Jack- hurt, betrayed and incredibly broken Jack.

But it had to be done.

He was not stable.

He needed help.

His mood swings were so unpredictable. Who was to say that he wouldn't revert back to the raging monster of chaos and destruction in the next minute?

And so, despite his pleading, she stayed firm in her decision. Jack didn't deserve this but boy, the Joker did.

"No, no, no, why would you do that?" he wanted to know. "You said-"

"Fix yourself, not the city," she replied calmly. He couldn't see clearly anymore. His eyes stung, tears threatening to fall. But he was not going to throw it all away now. It was just like Jeannie, only- only, she had been with him until…

And then the Joker was back. "I'll kill you," he hissed, tightening his grip on her, "I'll kill you- you- you can't… you don't- how could you Misha? I- I loved yo-"

And then the officers entered, helping her escape from his grasp.

He really was screwed up wasn't he?

* * *

"Well, did you?" she asked him as they left the building.

Bruce shot her a look. "No, he's out somewhere," he replied, "probably wounded."

"You better check the Narrows again," she advised, "he might be somewhere there."

Bruce stopped, thinking for a moment. "Guess I'll do that," he said, "you okay with me leaving you here?"

"Oh no Bruce Wayne," Misha quipped, "I'm six years old and need an adult to guide me upstairs to my apartment building."

He smiled. "Yeah, you're right. Bye."

She waved back before making for the elevator. It had been a week. A week since Rachel passed away. A week since Harvey Dent was admitted into the hospital. And a week since Jack, after escaping, had vanished.

And yet she was alive.

Misha was surprised to say the least. And it was all thanks to Bruce, she reckoned as she stepped out of the elevator and walked to her new apartment. He'd been extremely nice to her. Then again both were mourning a loved one and she was his new secretary now- recently appointed upon submitting her resume to him personally. Things were looking up for her…  _financially._  She was a month away from graduation _and_  she had a job. A good job that covered insurance and even helped put up with the leases.

Her new apartment was still under renovation but most of the part it which she needed had been immediately furnished, courtesy to Bruce Wayne. At first she had been worried that he was giving her special treatment but Fox had informed her that this was his treatment of every new staff of his. No one at Wayne Enterprises was to be denied the luxuries of life. Misha didn't know if she actually wanted the 'luxuries' of life but she appreciated the thought. God knows she'd met a fair share of people who wouldn't mind turning an under aged orphan into a penniless beggar.

The door to her new home was open- but that wasn't new. The decorator had a spare key and she'd come here every now and then with paint people and such. Humming, she walked in making a beeline towards the kitchen. She was surprised to find lunch already made- resting hot in the oven.

_Susannah feels generous today,_ she thought. She took the platter of Mac n' cheese out. It smelled heavenly. "Wow, I didn't know you could cook Susannah," she called, setting the meal onto a tray. If she'd made it then Misha would serve. It only seemed fair. "Want something to go with this? Sorry I don't have any wine or stuff like that. Is Coke good?"

No reply.

"Susannah?" she called walking out of the kitchen. She walked into the unfurnished sitting room. No one was there. Frowning, she checked all of the under decoration rooms but found no one there. And that's when she saw the door to her bedroom opened a jar slightly.

"Susan, what're you doing he-"

She paused when she saw who sat on her bed. It was Jack. Gone were the creepy clown face paint and the bright clothes and the hideous green hair dye. Jack sat there inspecting a photo frame wearing  _normal_ clothes. His hair done like  _normal_  people.

But when he looked up at her, he grinned and then she saw the Joker again. "Ah, I was waiting for you," he said.

"What're you doing here?" she snapped, backing out into the hallway.

"Now, is that the way to greet your fiancé?" he asked her, standing up.

_"Fiancé?_  Are we dreaming big?" she spat, slowly moving towards the living room so she could get to the front and do-

Misha was slammed against the wall of her corridor, Jack inches away from her, his hands clasping her arms too tightly for comfort. "Yes," he cooed dangerously, "is that a problem?"

"Get out of my house Jack," she hissed slowly. Jack laughed heartily over that.

"Really? Because empty threats always work don't they?" he asked her.

"I'll call the cops," she muttered, her left hand already digging into the panic button she had in her jacket pocket.

"I'd like to see you try," he smiled, snatching the little lever from her and throwing it away. Now she really panicked.

"J-Jack-" she began but he interrupted her by pulling her with him. He dragged her to the kitchen, roughly shoving her down into a chair.

"I made something honey," he whispered into her ears.

Misha shuddered and not in a good way.

How could she be so stupid? She should have seen this coming!

But then, it had been a week and he had not shown up and she thought...

_Well, fuck you very much, you careless old cow,_  her brain grumbled and for once Misha agreed with it. She was not sure of what was to come, or if she could handle it for the matter.

She had hoped that she would never see him again and that, in essence, had made her feel a tad bit better about going to the police.

"What're you doing?" she asked him. By the looks of it, he was preparing to serve them lunch and for the life of it, she could not understand why. Was he lulling her into a false sense of security before trying to kill to her?

Or was this his twisted version of normality?

It occurred to Misha that he'd called her his fiancée and she briefly contemplated if he would act upon his fantasy. She did not know where it was coming from- this weird calling of his. They had never discussed their own relationship and marriage was something neither had ever mentioned.  _We never thought of much about the future_ , she thought to herself, remembering the time when she and Jack had something of a romance going on. She'd thought they'd stay that way forever. She had never been more wrong.

"What does is it look like I'm doing?" he countered, putting two plates full of mac n' cheese on the table- one in front of her and one in front of where he was intending on sitting. Misha couldn't help but think that she had tried to serve him mac n' cheese once but had ended up burning the meal.

What was going on here?

He was looking at her expectantly and Misha had no choice but to (reluctantly) pick up a spoon and tried to dig in. She was not sure if she ought to eat it- he could have poisoned it for all she-

"It's not poisoned if that's what you think," he told her, looking a bit disappointed. Misha looked up to see that he had already dug into his meal.

"Err, alright," she managed to say as she forced herself to eat it. It tasted good, Jack was clearly a better cook than her but she couldn't stomach much as she was practically panicking with a thousand scenarios inside. She was anxious, worried, scared, frightened (and yes, she did know that both were synonyms) and had no idea what fate would await her. Actually, it was the fact that she had no idea what would happen to her that scared her the most.

What was he planning to do? Would he kill her? If so, then how? Would it be-

"Misha," he hissed, clearly annoyed at her lack of enthusiasm towards his cooking. "I spent quite a while preparing that and you're not even going to taste it? Rude!"

She felt her face heat up in embarrassment. "I- it's not th-th-that," she promised, hating how her voice shook out of fear of him. "It's just that... I- I had a... a lunch meeting at work and I- I- I'm full. Really, it's great bu-"

"No buts," he suddenly said, jumping up from his seat. He was still looking annoyed- albeit, mildly amused- as he walked up towards her. Then he grinned wildly before breaking into a serious face. "You know, it kind of hurts," he admitted, "that you prefer to spend more time with your boss than me. Kind of makes me wonder..." He slowly pulled out a pocket knife from his pocket.

Misha's heart stopped as she realized what he meant. "Jack, I swear, you know I wouldn't ever-" she tried but he stopped her.

"I really have no time for this," he told her, smiling menacingly, "but perhaps Batman does. Let's see how long it takes your precious Wayne to get Batman's attention."

And with that he swung his knife.


	21. Missing

The sound of a door slamming woke her up.

Misha winced.

Her head was positively throbbing, making her vision blurry and generally hard to concentrate on her surroundings. She was, however, aware of the fact that she was in a dark, unfurnished room with just enough sunlight coming through the cracks in the wall and the window to tell that was still daylight.

She briefly wondered how long she had been out.

She would have wondered how she'd gotten where she was at the moment but knew that pretty well.

_The Joker._

She gritted her teeth in irritation- some of it directed towards the clown while most of it towards her own physically limited self. She hated it when her mind became murky. And it definitely was that- _murky._  Her head hurt like hell and she was tired and sore (and not in a good way at that) and-  _and this was a first-_  hungry.

_It must have been a few days then,_  she thought as she tried to stand. For someone who was keen on torturing her, the Joker really didn't bother with the tedious task of tying her up.

_Maybe he knows that I'm too tired to do anything too,_  she reckoned, stumbling back a few spaces. Her body felt like it was on fire and she had to take the support of the wall behind her to stand up.

_Yup, definitely a few days,_  she thought to herself, trying hard to focus on her vision. She looked down to find that the front of her clothes had blood stains on them. Misha frowned, inspecting herself for any injuries. She was definitely not hurt. Why w-

She growled in pain when her hand reached the side of her neck. Misha felt a thin line of raised skin- no doubt it was dried blood. Ignoring the pain, she inspected it. It wasn't deep. Honestly, it seemed a little more than a cut. If she could get a first aid kit, she could clean it up- she wasn't too hopeful about it not getting infected. It probably infected at this point. Oh well, nothing she wasn't used to.

She sighed.

She didn't exactly remember when she'd gotten it. As her hand reached her forehead to massage it in an attempt to rid herself of her headache, she found that her forehead hurt as well. Had someone hit he-

_Oh yes._

She rolled her eyes.

She did remember that one.

Jack had  _oh- so_  chivalrously decided to hit her with a the back of a _fucking_  dagger before, well, kidnapping her.

She really did hope that Karma was real so one day their roles could be reversed.

She'd teach Jack a thing or two about being a nut job.

_And that, is the fundamental difference between a sociopath and a psychopath,_  she told herself,  _sociopaths are sneakier, psychopaths are all out._

In any other situation, she would have found that to be hilarious but right now- _oh boy,_  she really had no idea how to feel about the situation.

She gathered her strength and made her way towards the door. By the time she got there, her head was spinning. She was so tired!

It did not make any sense to her. She had never felt like this before. Had he drugged her?

He had never done it to her, or to any of his other victims for the matter, before but it seemed like a possibility. She shuddered to think that she might be an exception- who knows what the Joker thought of her?

That she betrayed him.

Oh yes, she remembered the events of the previous week. Bruce had told her that it was the best way to make Jack surrender and possibly give in to the police but she might have taken it a bit  _too_  far since he had managed to escape after blowing up the  _fucking_  police station.

Misha still found it hard to wrap her head around it.

How had she ended up in such a world?

Just a few years ago- and really, she did not even notice the time fly by. She was sure it had all happened in a matter of months- she was a normal college student. Somehow along the way she'd gotten caught up with the Joker. Though Misha highly doubted that she'd even be in this position- let alone, alive- had she never met him, she still found herself at awe with all that had happened.

So much had happened in the past three years.

But right now, she realized, there was no time to contemplate that. She had to find a way out of this room. It was making her claustrophobic and she was afraid that she would faint once more.

"Hello?" she called as she banged the door multiple times. It was only when she reached for the doorknob that she realized that it wasn't locked.

Misha rolled her eyes. Her foolishness had not, however, decreased in the past three years though. If any, it seemed to have increased because she had just basically alerted the Joker that she was awake.

_Brilliant. Just Brilliant,_  she thought spitefully as she pushed open the door. The brightly lit hallway was a sharp contrast against the room she had been locked in and it momentarily blinded her causing, and this she welcomed sarcastically, her headache to go up by a few notches.

Nonetheless, within minutes she recollected herself and walked down the hallway, peaking around the corner to see if someone was there an-

"Well, hellooo to you too!" the Joker yelled in her face, causing her to stagger back.

Once more she found herself clinging to the wall for support.

"Do you have to speak so loudly?" she asked him, hating how that only seemed to make her headache worse.

The Joker-  _or was it Jack since he was not wearing the make up and the usual Joker garb?_  she wondered- leaned forward and whispered, "Is this better?"

She nodded, appreciating the consideration. She was about to even thank him when he decided to be an ass again.

"Well too bad 'coz I don't care!" he announced, his voice booming in the hallway.

Misha took a sharp breath intake. "Fuck you," she cursed and he smiled menacingly.

"You've already done that," he informed her and she glared at him.

"Unfortunately."

"Touché."

They continued to observe one another for a few moments before he spoke once more, "Well, I've got some ideas for what I'm going to do to you!"

Misha frowned. "Wha-" She began to say but he slammed the side of her head against the wall.

As much as that made him feel guilty, he had things to do, plans to go ahead with.

It was show time.

* * *

Meanwhile back at the bat cave, Bruce was looking for clues, connecting dots to find anything really that would lead him to his newly hired employee. Bruce had last seen her when he drove her home after work, a week after the death of Rachel and the Joker's escape. He blamed himself for it because he had known that the Joker would try to find her. But he had let his guard down and Misha had been taken.

What's worse is that he didn't realize that until a few days later when she did not turn up for work on Monday. And by then, when he got to her apartment, the police had already gotten there first as per a neighbour's request to check things out because a strange smell was coming from within the house.

The strange smell turned out to be burnt food. It was a miracle that the apartment had not caught fire given the amount of time it had been inside the oven.

But that was not what caught his and Gordon's attention.

It was the fact that the entire house was covered in trails of blood leading to the various rooms of the house. Initially, Bruce had thought that the Joker had killed her but after testing a couple of blood samples, he realized that they were all a different type and not one of them was Misha's blood type. So there was a chance that she was still alive- he just didn't know how much of a chance that was.

"I don't get it," he admitted to his butler and confidant, Alfred, after a few minutes of analysing another such sample. "It's not hers. Why would he go to extreme lengths to redecorate her entire apartment and not lay a finger on her?"

"Maybe because your guess was true and he truly loves her," piped in the good butler.

Bruce rolled his eyes at that. "Well, that doesn't exactly explain the message he sent Batman."

"Men like him have a strange way of doing things," Alfred went on to explain, "He's mad at her for siding with the Batman. Maybe it's payback for that? Maybe, there's nothing really which the Batman can do in this situation but watch. He's just a bystander while he deals with his lady love. After he's through with her, then he'll come to get the Batman."

"You think he's gonna kill her?" Bruce asked him.

"My guess is only as good as yours," he shrugged, "he has a problem. Perhaps Miss Alau'din is the solution to it."

* * *

The next time she woke up, she wished she hadn't.

For one thing, this time, not only was she tied up but her head felt like it had taken a swing from a sumo wrestler or somebody. She was surprised that she was even alive with the kind of headache she had. It took some time, but once more, she adjusted herself and found the Joker sitting in front of her.

By the looks of it, he had been watching her for a while.

"Finally!" he declared once he saw her stir. "I thought you'd never wake up!"

Misha groaned. His stupid, loud voice made it all worse.

"No really," she told him, "keep your voice down."

He shot her a murderous glare and this time, she knew, he meant business.

"As if," he retorted, walking up to her. It was only then that she noticed the knife.

"You-" he hissed, grabbing her chin and pressing the tip of the knife against her left cheek, "-do NOT tell ME what to do, understand?" He applied just enough pressure to draw blood and Misha screamed.

That only seemed to make him excited. "Oh yes, scream and perhaps _, ah_ , your precious  _Brucey_  will hear you," he said, "maybe he'll get Commissioner too because apparently, that's what good citizens of Gotham. And where Gordon goes, Batman goes and then, you know the drill."

She decided to remain quiet after that.

When she did not say anything to that, he spoke louder, "Right?"

"Yeah, yes," she gasped, as the knife pressed deeper into her skin. She briefly wondered if he was going to kill her like he killed that mob boss, Gambol or something, his name was. The press had covered that in utmost detail and just thinking about it made her nervous.

She felt her heart sink. He wouldn't surel-

But, _he could._

She had, after all, betrayed him and Jack had once told her that he didn't take betrayals lightly. But she could withstand whatever he was going to do to her,  _right?_

"But," he continued and Misha strained against her blurry vision to focus, "that won't happen tonight. Tonight, we're gonna have fun and no one is going to interrupt us. You wanna know why?"

"W- why?" she managed to croak. She shuddered to think what horrors awaited her. She did not want this. She just wanted him to get better. She had always wanted that since she realized that he had a dual personality disorder. If only Jack would take over. She could plead, right?

He leaned forward. "Because tonight, Gotham will see fireworks," he whispered into her ear, "and everyone will be so busy cleaning up the mess, they won't even remember wittle Misha."

 


	22. Rescued At The Wrong Time

Her eyes widened in disbelief. This was _not_  the Jack she knew.

"You monster!" she shrieked. She was so angry and horrified. _How could anyone be so, so bad?_  "What are you planning to do with this city?"

"I'm planning to turn it into my personal playground," he informed her dismissively.

"Why?"

"Because I want to!" he exclaimed cheerfully.

"You can't do things because you simply want to," she told him, "Jack, think about it!"

"I have thought about it!" he defended himself. "Really, I have and this city _needs_  anarchy there's too much order and rules."

"And you think you can give it that?" she asked him, daringly.

"You think I can't?" There was strange, cold glint in his eyes but she pressed on anyway.

"No, I can't," she told him honestly, "because you like that order.  _Don't_  deny it. You lived with me in an ordered society and followed the rules for three  _whole_  years! You liked it. You're just mad because I don't like you killing random, innocent people!"

He started to laugh, rather hysterically too.

"You think I'm plunging this city into anarchy because  _you_  kicked me out?" he asked her. "That's rich! HA HA HA HA HA!"

"Do you really think you're _that_  important?" he went on, "Do you really think you're that special? You're just a spoilt, rich brat who got too much and then too little in life. You're no different from the rest."

She was speechless, she really had nothing to say. He was doing it again. Making her feel worthless. And worse, he was succeeding.

He seemed to have picked up the surprise she'd gotten and continued. "Oh yeah- it's true! You saved me- yeah. But you also went to the police and I can't let that go unseen. I need to teach you a lesson about privacy. That's all. Why would I even care about you?"

_Because I love you,_  she thought but didn't voice it.

There was no point anyway. She realized that it would be ridiculously cliché- specially since this was no romantic comedy. Oh no, he would kill her. That was for sure. She had accepted that long ago. She knew getting involved with the Joker would get her killed one day and honestly, she didn't care about that.

What did hurt, though, was how easy it was for him to make her feel so small. Maybe that's what she deserved for falling for someone as demented for him.

For the first time since the entire thing began, she realized that he really couldn't be saved. Bruce and Gordon both thought that they could use her to catch him and put him to justice. That wouldn't happen. He'd kill her before that.

He really didn't care about her. Perhaps Jack did but he was too far gone in the Joker persona to be able to take over.

She would not however, she decided, give him the satisfaction of getting to her before he killed.

So instead she pulled on a familiar mask of indifference- not very different from the one she'd put on for her uncle's family all those years ago- and said, "Huh. True."

The Joker frowned at that. "What?"

"You're right," she repeated, "Why would you care about me?"

His frowned deepened. "You mean- you don't... _care?"_  he asked her, suddenly very quietly.

Misha was so caught up in her own world that she didn't notice the change.

"No," she admitted, "if I cared, I'd go to Arkham. I wouldn't have gone to the police. I just want to make amendments..."

Her voice trialled off when she looked at him.

He was in a turmoil. Exactly what she'd wanted not fifteen minutes ago. Why, she'd thought she'd lost him when he used the rich brat narrative on her!

_Bless him._

Inwardly, she was crying from happiness. Every time she lost hope, something would happen- and she didn't know if it was fate or not- that would bring the hope she had when it came to him, back. She dared not hope too much though, she had to tread carefully. If only she could get Jack back...

"All my life, I've left my mess for other people to deal with," she shrugged, "I just wanted to clean this one up."

"You think... whatever we are, it's a mistake?"

"Not really," she mumbled.

"Speak up Misha!" he snapped and she did.

"I don't want us to be a mistake," she said truthfully, "I just- Jack, _please_. Stop this madness. Let things go back to the way they were. It was fine that way."

He shook his head. "I can't," he replied in negative, "things can never be the way they were. I have to go ahead with the plan."

"What plan?"

"My plan."

"You never have a plan."

"I do!" he was quick to say, "It's my plan. All  _mine!_  Don't you see- this city is getting what it deserves! You, of all the people should understand!"

"How is this city getting what it deserves when the innocent are suffering?"

"No one is innocent! You said so yourself, people get what they deserve."

"I didn't mean it in this context, Jack!"

"I- I... It's their fault this happened!" he cried, enraged.

"Whose?" she pressed.

"I can't tell," he said.

"Is someone helping you?"

"No! The mob. The mob's the reason," he explained, "they've corrupted everyone. There's a cop in Gordon's unit too. Three in Dent's and the police force is full of them. The only way to fix this city is to plunge it back into chaos. It'll fix everything."

"It won't fix anything Jack. You know that!"

"I can do it! I know I can! I just need a litt-"

The sound of a blast interrupted them.

"Wha-"

A henchman entered the room.

"Boss, Batman's here," he called before running off.

Jack turned to face her, his expression one of realization.

"So that's what you were doing," he said slowly.

"No, Jack-" she tried but was interrupted when the room started filling up with smoke.

The last thing she remembered was the silhouette of the Batman as he entered the room.

* * *

The next time she woke up, and she hoped that this would not become a habit, she was being carried by someone. Misha turned her head to find that it was Bruce- as Batman.

"Bruce!" she hissed. "What're you doing?"

"Taking you to safety," he said.

"What? Why?"

"Because the Joker was going to kill you."

They arrived at the Bat mobile and he seated her inside before getting in himself.

"No he wasn't!"

"That's not the impression he gave me," he said.

Misha sighed.

"That's because he feels threatened by you, not Batman," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"I was through the Joker," she explained, "I was able to get to Jack. I did manage to get to Jack. I could've convinced him to stop and then you showed up!" She glared at him.

Bruce glared at her, taking his mask off.

"Of course, blame the guy who saved you," he commented.

"I was fine! I could've gotten to him!" she insisted.

"No you wouldn't've," he countered. "It doesn't look like you would have."

She frowned. "What?"

"Have you looked at yourself in the mirror?"

When she said nothing, he handed her a compact mirror. Without wondering where he got it from or who it belonged to, she opened it. What she saw, shocked her.

She had known that she had injuries, that she probably looked like a mess but really, even she had not expected  _this._

Why, it looked like a freaking tornado had hit her!

For one thing, there was a big, blue, swollen bruise on the side of her forehead. The cut on her neck looked pretty nasty too- it was bordering on purple, at least that was the color of the dried blood anyway. Her lip was split and she wondered how she had not noticed that. Over all, there were many cuts- excluding the one Jack gave her on her cheek- all over her face and neck.

"Well, at least that explains the headache," she said sheepishly.

The corner of Bruce's lips perked up at that but he did not smile. "Headache? You're lucky you're alive!" he exclaimed and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm fine. Where's Jack?"

"Your concern for him never seizes to amaze me," the Batman stated.

"Shut up. Where is he?"

"Gone."

"What?"

"Yes."

"Bruce- I'm serious!" she cried. "I got through him. He probably thinks I was stalling him or something. Oh god- I could have fixed this!"

It was Bruce's turn to sigh. "Look, we'll get there- we'll stop him-"

"NO!" she said firmly, "We have to help him. He's-"

"-Crazy," Bruce interrupted her.

"No- lost," she finished.

"I'm not exactly keen on portraying the Joker as someone lost," he said.

"The Joker is an alter- ego. Have you not been paying attention?" she asked him. "Jack. I got to Jack. I hope he stays for a while. We can fix this. We can send him to Arkham and- and he'll get better."

"You know, we should just lock the two of you up together," Bruce suggested and she narrowed her eyes.

_"Excuse me?"_

He raised his hands in surrender. "Look, he's blown up two buildings as we speak right now. I don't think anyone's going to go with this. Let alone Gordon."

"Which is why we must catch him."

"Now you're talking," Bruce agreed, smiling triumphantly for the first time since they'd met.

The Bat mobile came to a stop.

"The hospital's around a corner, get yourself treated," he said, "Alfred and I will meet you there. Then we'll talk about Joker- I mean, Jack."

She nodded and left.

Bruce hoped he wouldn't have to be the one explaining to her what the Joker had done while he'd kept her captive.

 


	23. Not The Best Time Or Place For That Kind Of Thing.

The hospital was in a chaos. Everywhere she looked, doctors and nurses were running about catering to the many patients that kept coming in. Misha frowned as she made her way towards the reception.

"Umm, hey," she said to the receptionist who immediately got down to business.

"Caught in it too were you?" she asked her, taking out some paperwork for her to do.

"Caught where?" she asked in turn.

"The bomb blast," she informed her, "don't you know? The Joker blew up a hospital. We've had to relocate all the patients and all. Some people got caught up in the whole rampage." Then, "Where were you? You look like a truck ran over you!" She added, eyeing her curiously.

"Me?" She thought quickly. "I was in a car accident."

"Oh. Just fill out this form," the receptionist said, "The doctor will see you shortly."

She nodded and made her way towards the waiting room where a doctor did see to her. She was just about to be dismissed when Bruce and Alfred arrived.

"Hey," he greeted her, brows raised sceptically, an indication to her injuries.

"I'm fine," she shrugged, "just a minor concussion. Nothing deadly. A truck full of pills though."

He smiled briefly at that.

"Well, surely the Doctor knows best," Alfred suggested and she agreed to that.

"Of course," she said and then upon remembering, turned to Bruce, "You said you'd tell me something about, y' know." She tweaked her nose and looked sideways, hoping Bruce would get the hint.

He did.

"Yeah, yeah, let's go," he said, quickly, immediately assuring her and Alfred out of the building and into his car. "What's going on?" she asked, after they were inside. "You told me that Jack had blown up two buildings."

Bruce sighed. He had hoped he would not be explaining it to her.

"Things are a little more...  _complicated_  than that," he told her, nodding at Alfred to start driving.

"He's killed a bunch of mob members," he went on, "And tried to get someone in the city to kill an employee who was going to reveal, err, my identity."

"Wait- what? How did that happen?" she interrupted.

Bruce looked more annoyed than angry- which he should have been, according to Misha- at that.

"Apparently, we weren't able to cover some accounts about the Bat mobile well enough and he found out," he informed her, "If it makes you feel any better, you're getting a raise because that's coming under your wing now."

"Haven't even been working for you for a whole week and I'm already getting a raise," she quipped, "I like that."

Bruce said nothing but smiled at her before moving to the matter at hand.

"Yeah, so that happened," he continued, "and just this morning he declared an open, all out war or something along those lines and people are trying to escape in the ferries because he's done something- you can already imagine what- to the bridge."

Her eyes widened. "Fuck, I should've been quicker," she cursed.

"Hey," he told her, "it's not your fault."

"I could have stopped him," she insisted, "I should have gone to the police."

"You did," he countered, "You went before all of this started to help us. He escaped. That was out of everyone's hands."

She sighed. "What do we do?"

"What do I do," he corrected her.

"No, I'm going to help."

"Yeah- you will. You will tell me and Gordon where we can find him and what he could possibly do," Bruce said, "from my house."

"No, that's not gonna," she disagreed, "I'm going with you!"

"Misha, your boyfriend is a mass murderer," he spoke, very, very firmly, "so help me if I'm trying to protect everyone whether you like it or not. You're going to be safe while we tackle him and if we need you- we'll bring you in."

"Which is never going to happen, right?"

"I hope. It's the last resort."

She said nothing to that, glaring at him at the revelation.

He was just not getting it.

* * *

"Is there anything I can get you Miss Alau'din?"

Alfred's voice pulled her out of her reverie and it took a while for her to understand what he had said.

"Uh, no thank you," she said.

He smiled, sitting next to her on the couch in Bruce's living room. They remained silent as they watched the television.

After a while, Misha spoke, "Why isn't Bruce letting me help?"

Alfred sighed. "He's doing it because he thinks you need to be saved. What the Joker did to you is bad. He's crazy, he needs help."

"I think so too but Bruc-"

"Master Wayne wants him to pay for what he's done," he told her, "He doesn't know the Joker like you do. He can't imagine him being a normal person. After all, he tried to look for Jack Napier. Didn't find anything in the system."

"Of course he didn't. Jack erased everything and anything that could lead back to him. He told me so himself."

"Ah, well, that explains it."

"I don't think I need saving. I don't need to be protected. I could help get him."

"Gordon thinks so too but Master Wayne is the one against the idea."

Misha was surprised. "Gordon's on board?"

"Yes, didn't he tell you? Oh, I shouldn't've said so."

Now she was getting annoyed. "I can't believe him! He's treating me like a child." She sank back into the couch, arms crossed, frowning.

Alfred gave her a pointed look.

"With all due respect," he said, "you do behave like a child sometimes."

Misha tried to keep herself from frowning but failed miserably.

"He cares about you, you know," he continued, "a lot. And for someone like Master Wayne who's lost so many people he's cared about; caring about someone else doesn't come easily. It's a surprise how well he's taken to you- especially since Miss Dawes died recently. He doesn't let people in and he's let you do that."

Now this, she did not know. Or understand. She didn't know Bruce that well. Why did he...?

"But I haven't known him for a long time," she said. "A month ago, I hadn't even met him."

"He trusts you, miss," Alfred told her, "he doesn't do that. You've got to be real special to get to him to admit that he's Batman."

"I didn't make him; he told me himself," she stated.

It was now Alfred's turn to look surprised. "See," he said a moment later, "he likes you. You're probably really important to him. Few people, myself included, are."

She smiled at that.

It was good to know that someone cared about her even though she had no idea why. Bruce had no reason to like her, to be there for her and yet he trusted her. Alfred was right- there was probably something about her which drew him towards her. She hoped it was that strange guardian angel looking over her. To be fair, Bruce might as well be her guardian angel. He was so good. He was too good to be true and yet here he was.

That made her all the more guilty about Rachel. She had been a good, close friend of his and surely did not deserve to die. Why had she chosen to go to the police so late?

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a news bulletin.

_"Good evening ladies and gentlemen. I'm Lara Patterson and you're watching Gotham News Channel. This just in, the Joker has hijacked the ferries leaving Gotham city tonight. One of these contain the most wanted criminals caught during Harvey Dent's regime of the city and the second containing innocent civilians. The Joker threatens to blow up both ferries at midnight unless one blows the other. Right now, we have Sally Donovan, one of the hostages in the ferry with us on call. Sally, can you tell us how it is there? What conclusion have you reached...?"_

But Alfred and Misha were not paying attention anymore.

"I have to go stop him," she exclaimed.

The older man sighed. "Master Wayne made me promise not to let you go."

"Yes, but now he's threatening other people's lives! I can't let him do that when I can stop him," she insisted.

"What do you plan on doing Miss Alau'din?"

"I plan on looking for him and get through to him. I've done it once, I can do it again. You have to let me go!"

He thought for a moment. "Well, Master Wayne doesn't want you to go..." he started, "But if you were to sneak out. I can't really do anything about that now can I? Except alerting him."

Misha grinned. "Thank you so much, Alfred!" she exclaimed, getting to her feet. She made her way out when Alfred stopped her. Frowning, she turned around.

"You'll get an hour's head start before I tell Master Wayne," he told her, "And you might want to take the fire escape, it'll be more believable then."

She nodded quickly before running.

She had to find Jack.

She couldn't let him commit this crime or there would be no way of saving him.

* * *

For sentiment's sake, or maybe it was simple convienence, or the fact that he knew the area so well, Misha found him in the Narrows.  _He isn't even trying to hide,_  she thought as she sneaked past one of the various vans of the Joker's goons towards her old apartment. She had lived in a crappy, old apartment which she'd partly taken due to the low rent and the amount of privacy she got. Most of it was vacant.

That's probably why he chose it too, she realized. The landlord only came to take rent from her and as far as he knew, the place was empty which is why he really didn't even have any reason to visit.

Or so, she hoped.

A larger part of her was convinced that Jack had either killed or scared him away. Even though she was not particularly keen at the idea of her former land lord being murdered, she did find the idea of him being scared away appealing. Served him right for being a pompous asshole.

She wondered why Bruce had not found him yet and then prayed otherwise. She especially did not want Bruce to find them right now. She had to talk to him.

And so, she summoned her courage and knocked on the door to her former apartment, prepared for the worst.

A henchman answered, looked at her up and down and she recognised him to be one of the two idiots who'd tried to rob her and Jack that one night.  _And ruined her peace,_  she couldn't help but think. She chose to hide her hatred for the man and waited as he barked, "BOSS! This one's for you!"

Misha did not know what to think at that. Did he really think that she was that low? Christ, they better not have a bunch of whores over. That would make it so hard to communicate.

The Joker shuffled a few minutes later and smiled widely when he saw her.

"Well, well, look what the tide brought in," he exclaimed, "if it isn't my lovely Misha." His make up was smudged and his clothes were dirty. She wondered what kind of work he'd been doing and then realized that he was probably working on more explosives. The thought made her feel wary.

"We need to talk," she told him as firmly and confidently- and dead seriously- as she could.

His grin only got wider at that. "Of course ya do," he said to her, grabbing her by the shoulders and dragging her across the room towards what used to be her bedroom. Misha seriously wondered why Bruce had not found him yet. Even though he'd never been to- much less knew the location of- her old apartment, he really ought to have caught him by now.

_Surely he had some form of lead right?_

"What is it sugar?" the Joker exclaimed bringing her back to the current situation.

"You need to stop," she told him.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Right, any other news?"

"Yeah," she said, sitting beside him on a little cot, leaving that topic at bay for the moment, "you kidnapped me."

He smiled.

"I'm angry at you," she informed him.

"Darlin', I should be angry with you," he told her. "You sabotaged my game and yet you're alive." She hoped it wasn't a threat.

"What you're doing is wrong," she said once more. "You need to stop."

"No I don't," he answered back easily.

"Jack," she cupped his face in her hands, "You know this is wrong. We've fought about this. We- We've been through so much. If you go ahead with this- you'll go to jail and you'll never see me again- is that what you want?"

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment and then opening them again.

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do Misha," he said, his voice threatening and cold now.

She was wise enough to realize that she'd struck a nerve or made him angry.

"What makes you think I'll get caught?" he asked her. "Or have you led Batso here?"

She froze at that. She hadn't. She hadn't done anything of the sort. He was angry now, wasn't he? She'd been a fool. She should have told Bruce all along!

"N-no," she said, "he probably doesn't even know where I am for the matter."

"Really, because he took you with him," he accused her.

Misha looked heavenwards. "I swear, I'm not siding Batman. I just want to do the right thing, Jack. I want you to stop this suicide mission."

"I don't think I believe you," he said simply. Misha noticed that he was comparatively less violent than he'd been the previous day. Well, in the beginning the previous day. She wondered if he remembered their conversation at all.

"Do you... do you remember what we were talking about yesterday?" she questioned him.

He raised a brow. "Of course I do. Ah, how dumb d' ya think I am?"

"Then you remember what I said to you don't you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Misha, I'm not going to go back on my plans," he informed her, "I've invested too much to go back now."

"It can't be worth it can it?" she asked him.

His demeanor changed at that. "Believe me," he said, his voice reaching an alarmingly deep undertone. "It is."

She closed her eyes for a moment and then spoke again.

"Jack, listen to me. We still have time. Stop this insanity and we can start all over again somewhere else. Everything will be like it used to be. We'll have a new city, a new setting- we'll have a new life. We could start all over an-"

"SHUT UP!" he yelled, pushing her. Misha fell to the ground. He was towering her now. The situation reminded her of a similar one that had happened a few months ago. She hoped it woul-

Surely, it wouldn't. He couldn't- not with other people in the house right?

For the first time since she arrived, she realized how crazy her plan sounded. She had gotten Jack to talk but she forgot about the Joker. And by the looks of it, the Joker was in charge.

She felt fear enter her being like a wave of chilly air. Misha shuddered. She had to get him to stop this madness no matter what.

"Stop killing innocent people," she went on, hoping that she could provoke him enough to snap out of it.

"You have no idea what you're speaking of!" he shrieked, pulling her against the wall.

"Maybe you have no idea what you're speaking about!" she countered, fully prepared for literally anything he'd do to her. "You're killing people! Not the bad guys- the good guys who don't deserve it. You're robbing this city of its integrity and honor. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

And then it happened.

The Joker snapped.

"What's wrong with me?" he howled. "I l _ove_  you, that's what's wrong with me! I'm doing this to make our lives better Mish. Why can't you understand that?"

"Killing people won't make our lives easier," she whispered. Inside, she was in a state of turmoil. He'd said it.

He'd finally said it. He loved her!

Misha tried to concentrate on the situation.

"I know what I'm doing," he insisted one last time.

"Don't kill them please," she begged him and he looked heavenwards before leaning in for a kiss.

This time she returned it and he never felt better.

"I will," he muttered slowly, "I'll,  _ah,_  not kill them if you marry me."

 


	24. A Not So Special Wedding Day

Misha blinked, staring at him, her eyes wide and her mouth ajar. Had he just? The answer was yes, yes he had. Not only did he tell her that he loved her but also that he was willing to... _marry her?_

_At the price of killing people,_  the voice in her mind whispered _._

"Why?" She asked him, hoping she'd heard herself wrong.  _Why? Why did he ask her in the worst time possible?_

"I need to know that you won't leave me if I do," he told her. "You kicked me out the last-"

"Excuse me," she interrupted, "but you tried to rape me the last-"

_"I lost my temper!"_  He exclaimed. "I'm sorry for that okay? I really didn't know what I was doing."

She glared at him. "That's hardly an excuse. No, I'm not going to. Not until you prevent it. You could easily marry me and go ahead with your grand plans."

He sighed. "I won't do that," he admitted lamely, "I mean, can I be honest for just one second? Yeah, the ferries are outta my hands. Really, it's up to them."

She stared at him in disbelief. "Jack Napier! You are incredibly-"

_"Insane?_  Yes I know that," he admitted. "And that's what you like about me. Don't deny it. So, what's it gonna be?"

"Not until those passengers are safe," she hissed.

"Geez, I told you- it's out of my hand woman," he said once more.

She continued to glare at him and he pouted. "Fine," he said, "I'll send a general announcement. Ya happy?"

She didn't even smile at that either. "Not until I hear it myself."

He muttered something under his breath and she reckoned that he was probably grumbling.

"We better get a fresh start after this," he said to her before getting on with it.

She did nothing but glare at him at that too.

* * *

Of all the things and people that annoyed him greatly, somehow- he did not know how though- Misha topped that list.

Strangely enough,she even topped his list of favourite people.

Well, she was the only one on that list.

Most of the people on his list were dead but _, eh._

He should have been used to it by now.

He had promised her to stop the ferries from being blown.

Oh, he had.

But he wasn't going to lie that he hated the notion.

After all, he had spent  _hours_  preparing for that one and  _she_  dared to try stopping him. He reckoned that's what was only right but there was a larger part- the part he was used to listening to- that kept telling him to not go ahead with it. He could,  _well_ , he could  _lie_  and honestly, she would not know.

He could tell her that he had tried _, really_  tried to save those stupid civilians but he was too late. She couldn't blame him for being too late could she?

He had, after all, already told her that it was out of his hands.

_Eh, no,_  he thought to himself as he arrived at the venue where everything for the ferries was set up. He was not going to go back on his word to Misha. He was not. It just-

He could not deny that the idea was tempting though.

What good would come to him anyway?

The people of this blasted city already thought he was the bad guy. Batman would still try to arrest him and face justice- whatever that, _in this town,_  was- and yeah, generally apart from his lady love, there was no benefit coming his way.

He wasn't a fool when it came to her either.

He doubted she'd ever be with him. It baffled him how quickly she changed from the girl who wanted to leave him to someone pleading to him to, _well,_  change.

He suspected that she was working for Batman but there was no evidence. He'd followed the Bat mobile when Batman had rescued her and she'd gone to a hospital. Even if Batman had gotten her to his side somehow during that ten minute drive, he had yet to make contact with her.

He did know one thing though.

He hated Batman.

"Uh, boss," one of his goons monitoring the sight broke him away from his reverie, "We've got company."

And that's when he snapped.

He knew that she was never going to agree with him. He was never going to get what he wanted.

He'd lost every hope for a normal life the day he'd killed Jeannie and then once more when she kicked him out.

Jack clenched his fists harder and closed his eyes shut.  _What was the point?_

He'd rather have fun then get committed. Women were for wimps.

She was no different. She'd already showed where her loyalties laid. If it ever came down to him and the Batman, she'd choose Batman any day and he was sure that both he and Misha knew that.

She had a misplaced- newly resurrected- sense of righteous and he wondered if it had something to do with Bruce Wayne. She'd gotten a lot bolder since she began working for him.

Everything good in her life came about by people he despised or didn't particularly like.

It was never going to work out.

And besides, if anything happened, he could always lie to her.

"Don't lemme miss all the fun," he told the goon before going after Batman.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

"Master Wayne," Alfred's voice rang throughout the Bat mobile.

"Yes," Bruce replied feeling very worried as he as he drove into the docks area. There were so many buildings here and there was no telling which one the Joker was in. The sonar system could only tell so much and he had to get Fox on to know which building he was in. He could be anywhere, the life of so many people at the palm of his hands and there was no way that he was go-

"Miss Alau'din sneaked out," he continued and Bruce took in a sharp breath.

"What?" he hissed in agitation. "How?"

"Well, she told me she was going to freshen up but never came back," his oldest friend said and he groaned.

"Alfred, I thought I told you to keep an eye on her!"

"I did, she vanished," came his reply immediately.

Bruce looked heavenwards. He really could not blame Alfred either, he was just doing his job.

"I'll look for her once I'm through," he informed him before getting out of the Bat mobile. The building he'd come to was still under construction, had a clear view of the ferries and was deserted. Seemed promising enough; and apparently Gordon thought the same because as he entered, he spotted a couple of SWAT team members entering the building too. He nodded at them, letting them know that he was on their side and was willing to stay out or help when needed.

They were no doubt looking for the Joker's hostages from the hospital bombing.

He crept ahead of them, onto the higher floor because, well, he did not have to follow protocol like the SWAT members. And that's when he saw them- the hostages and the Joker's goons. He stepped forward to save them and that's when he noticed it: the people dressed up as the Joker's goons were, in fact, the hostages. He tried to go back to warn the SWAT team but the real goons tried to stop.

In the end it was too late and he had to take some drastic measures to make sure that they did not hurt the real hostages. That is, by hanging them off the side of the building. But, it was better than the hostages dying, he reckoned.

They'd probably end up sick due to the effects of gravity but honestly, it was better than what could have otherwise happened.

With the goons caught and hostages freed, he now knew that- yes, the Joker was at the higher level. Batman made his way up and just as Fox's system told him, there were three dogs waiting with Joker which he set on him the moment he set foot on the floor.

It was hard, keeping track of the dogs and the Joker as he fought. In the end, he tried a different approach, he let the Joker attack and capture him to see what he would do.

At last, the Joker had him pinned down. "We really should stop this fighting or otherwise we'll miss the fireworks," he told him, looking up at the ferries. It was midnight. "And here we… go!"

But to his disappointment and Batman's triumph, nothing happened.

"What were you trying to prove?" Batman taunted him.

The Joker rolled his eyes. "Can't rely on anyone these days," he grumbled, "you gotta do everything yourself, don't we! That's okay I came prepared." He pulled out a detonator out of his pocket. "It's a funny world we live in. Speaking of which do you know how I got these scars?"

But Bruce was not looking at him. His gaze had fallen on to Misha, behind them. She was holding a shovel and before he knew it, she'd hit him with it. The Joker staggered backwards.

"What the-" he stopped speaking when he saw her and _boy,_  did he look guilty.

Bruce stood up immediately, ready to fight but not before he grabbed the detonator which had fallen from the Joker's hand. Something told him he wouldn't have to be worried about that. Misha looked furious and he hoped that her anger would never be directed towards him.

_"You liar!"_  she shrieked, dropping the shovel and slapping him across the face.  _"You lied to me!"_

"Look, I can explain-" he tried to say but she was not listening.

"He was, wasn't he?" she asked Bruce who had no choice but to nod.

"What? You're going to listen to Batman over me?" he asked and she glared at him.

"News flash: He's the good guy," she snapped, moving away from the Joker. "I'm done with you."

That set him off. "What? Misha, you can't just-"

"Yes, I can, you might want to shut up, the SWAT team's here," she said, sitting on the ground, running a hand through her hair. True to her word, the team did arrive and the Joker willingly let himself get arrested.

"I was expecting more drama to be honest," Gordon told her, once he'd been arrested.

"Me too," she admitted. Bruce had disappeared- as usual.

"And he?"

"Batman left as soon as you guys came, I think," she said, "I don't think I'm off though. He's probably mad at me."

"He probably is. Misha, I need to ask you a favor," he started but she stopped him.

"If it's anything to do with Jack, then I'm done," she told him.

This caught him by surprise.

"Ah- well, I was going to ask you to help us interrogate him. But it's-"

"No, it's okay," she interrupted him. "I can help with that. I want him to face justice. No more, no less."

Gordon nodded and Misha bid him good night.

It was only when she got to her apartment did she realize that she had forgotten her purse at Bruce's. And that she had a massive cut in her arm.

Groaning, she walked to Bruce's apartment. Thank God it was only five minutes away. And when she did arrive, the last thing she was prepared for happened: Bruce Wayne was angry at her.

Misha rolled her eyes and walked past him towards Alfred, showing him her wound. That spurred him on.

"Misha, you're in big trouble," he began but she cut him off.

"Oh shut up, I just helped you catch Joker," she snapped. He seemed to have gotten deaf at that point because he just rambled on and on and on.

Misha knew she would not get any sleep that night.

 


	25. And Again

Bruce Wayne was angry.

Actually, make that  _beyond_ angry.

Bruce Wayne was furious.

"I told you to stay here," he scolded the one who had courted his wrath. "What part of that do you not understand?"

Said victim of his wrath looked at him sheepishly, flinching every now and then as Alfred stitched her injuries.

"Look, I had to talk to him," she said, "He would have never- "

"He still attacked me though," he countered and she sighed before flinching once more. She did not like getting stitched. She briefly wondered how Bruce and Jack managed it. Like, they were always getting hurt and yet seemed perfectly fine with the outcome and the injuries came with it.

Was it something they were born with- or had they gotten used to it?

"There's something we need to talk about," she went on, "still do."

"Look, I know you two crazies are in love," Bruce rambled on, "but Misha- listen to yourself, he's  _really_ crazy."

That seemed to put her off as he had been there when she told him that she was done with him. Still, Bruce decided, she needed to understand the gravity of the situation. She had to learn to listen to him.

"He has a dual personality disorder," surprisingly, she maintained her stance; "You just don't like him. Which is weird because you two have a lot in common," she added, spitefully.

Bruce glared at her while Alfred chuckled at that.

"That is true," the older man agreed, "Master Wayne and Mr Napier have a lot in common."

"What? It's Mr Napier now? That doesn't make sense!" Bruce claimed, "You've never met him."

"Neither have you Master Wayne," he informed him candidly, "all of us except Miss Alau' din have had direct contact with the madman, not Mr Napier. It would be cruel to judge him."

Misha smiled triumphantly at Bruce who responded by yet another glare.

"You told me that some people just like to see the world burn," he muttered loud enough for them to hear, rather childishly.

"That was before we met Miss Alau' din and she explained the Joker's psychology." Alfred finished stitching her wound.

"There," he said to her, "good as new."

Misha smiled, thanking him and standing up. That caught Bruce's attention.

"Where are you going?" he asked her.

"None of your business," she told him cheerfully causing him to narrow his eyes.

"You are not going anywhere," he said and she rolled her eyes.

"News flash: you're not my dad, Bruce," she stated mechanically, "I can do whatever I want."

"Wait, you're going to see him," he realized, "come on, Misha! You don't need to see him."

"Why?"

"Because he's the Joker!"

"No, he's Jack."

"How do you know? He's probably the Joker right now."

"Well, because he listened to me when I told him to stop last night," she concluded and began to make her way towards the elevator.

"Yes, but that didn't stop him from becoming the psychopath that he is," Bruce growled. He did not like where any of this was going.  _Why couldn't she see him for what he was?_

The Joker was a dangerous, notorious criminal and all she could see was that he was part of some guy named Jack Napier- who he had yet to witness.

"I won't let you," he went on when she ignored him. Misha turned around and gave him a death glare but said nothing. "I'll call Gordon and tell him not to let you see him."

She smiled, amused at the idea before saying, "That's funny because Gordon called me. They're using me to get him to confess. Now you're in on it. Happy? Jesus Christ."

And with that, she was gone.

Bruce turned to Alfred.

"Why didn't they tell me?" he asked him.

"Because you need a break," he told him dutifully.

"No I don't," he grumbled.

"Trust me, you do Master Wayne," the old man chided. "Now please don't go there. I think this is something Miss Alau' din needs to do on her own. Who knows? She could be right about him all this time."

"She's blinded by some weird fragile image the Joker's pulled off in front of her," Bruce said, "she thinks she can help him."

"She feels guilty," Alfred informed him, "so she's trying to do everything she can to help Gotham recover from the problem- the Joker and at the same time she's trying to win the man she loves back. How hard is that to comprehend?"

Bruce felt bitter at that. "You don't always win the person you love," he muttered darkly, thinking back to Rachel. He hated the Joker for what he did. He knew he could not blame Jack Napier for what had happened but he felt angry. The anger made it impossible to make the Joker human. And even if he was human- which he evidently was because, well, Jack Napier- Bruce could not see him that way. What the Joker did made it impossible for him to see Jack Napier was a good person. He was worried- and he suspected that this was an entire concoction made by the Joker to mess with Misha.

After all, everyone knew what happened to Dr Harleen Quinzel….

The good doctor had been assigned the Joker but instead of fixing him ended up becoming as crazy as the man himself. He did not know what had become of her after she helped the Joker escape Arkham for the first time but he really wouldn't be surprised if that was the Joker's approach to Misha. After all, how long had it been for the Joker's Quinzel victory- as the media called it- before he met Misha.

Six months.

No more, no less.

He would not be surprised if the Joker had decided to try a different way of manipulating her. He could be playing her and honestly, it did seem like he was playing her.

Of course, she'd showed up at the police station to help as a sign of her own good will and the Joker had seemed incredibly surprised at her attitude (which he'd told her to pull up because despite of everything, even back then Misha had maintained her stance: Jack- whoever he was- was innocent and needed help.) but there was no denying one of the off habits of hers.

She snuck out to meet him, trying to convince him to stop the ferries from going off. He took what she said to him, what she did to him because, yes, Bruce was surprised at how angry and aggressive she'd gotten when she found out that the Joker had attacked him and had actually gone back on his word to her.

Of course, he'd been obnoxious about it, but he listened to her. He had to have a reason behind that now didn't he?

Bruce refused to believe that the Joker could do something as simple and, well, honest as loving someone.

Needless to say, he was worried.

About the Joker, about Misha and the fate of Gotham if everything he feared happened.

* * *

"You're up, Miss Alau'din," Gordon said, leading Misha towards the interrogation room. She frowned, realizing that it was not the room he had been previously kept in. No, this was the room where she had confessed everything to Batman and the good officer; meaning, no one would know what was happening in this room and she found that to be strange.

"Are you sure we're in the right room?" she asked.

"He blew up his cell," Gordon admitted, "but I trust you to be able to get to him. The room isn't wired or anything so you can, well, do whatever to convince him to confess."

Misha scowled at that but said nothing. "Don't you think that's unorthodox and strange? I don't even work for the police."

"He refuses to speak to anyone," he admitted, "you're our only hope."

_Well, that explains it._

She nodded.

"Okay, I'll see what I can do," she said, opening the door and then shutting it after a nod from Gordon. The fact that they locked it worried her a bit.

He was there alright. Sitting where she herself had been sitting not too long ago; his makeup was all over the place, all smudged and ruined, his hair unkempt- but that was a characteristic trait of both Jack and the Joker, she'd found out- and he looked, to put it simply, tired.

"What're you here for?" he asked her warily.

_Jack then, good._  She could work on that.

She sat on the chair opposite him, separated by the table between them.

"Lemme guess, to slap me," he went on, "because evidently, you enjoy that."

She rolled her eyes. "I slapped you because you deserve it."

"I deserve a lot of things," he scoffed. "So really- you working for them now?"

"Actually," Misha said, "I'm doing them a favor. You won't talk to anyone."

"They want me to admit to a crime I haven't committed," he complained and Misha felt like face palming herself.

"You did as the Joker you idiot, you're supposed to confess to it," she retorted.

"You're supposed to be on my side," he said.

"Yeah, after you completely ignore my advice," she concluded. Her gaze fell on a wire near the table and she began to trace it until she found a little speaker at an inside corner of a table.

He'd lied to her alright, the room was wired. But, why would Gordon lie to her? She wondered.

_Unless…_

Bruce couldn't have arrived here so soon, could he?

Or, he could if he took his car or the Bat mobile or something.

She'd taken the bus.

She internally groaned. She was done with her life.

"I hate the Batman," he said, "he annoys me. The Joker hates him for, well, existing."

She looked heavenwards. "Look, this is ridiculous," she said, "just admit it. You're crazy. There's something up with you. You wanted to go see a therapist or something when I threatened to kick you out."

"Correction: you did kick me out," he grumbled and Misha sighed.

"Yeah, so basically- if you're agreeing to whatever, what is your problem?"

"They're convicting me!"

"So?"

"It's not fair because most of the time when the Joker takes over, I have no idea what's happening!"

"Look, Jack- I do hope you realize that this entire dual personality thing you've got going on is unbelievable to most people. So, deal with it."

He smiled at that.

"What?"

"That's the Misha I know, don't give a fuck about others."

"Well, I don't," she spoke a little louder so Bruce could hear her.  _The little shit._

"What can I do to save myself?"

"Do something redeemable," she said, before standing up.

"Wait- where are you going?" he asked her.

"We're done talking, I have to speak to Gordon now," she replied monotonously.

"We have something else to talk about," he said.

"Trust me, we don't."  _I want nothing to do with you anymore romantically,_ went unsaid.

"But Misha- you said that we're through is th-"

"I don't want to talk to you about anything that is not related to the immediate Joker issue," she replied coldly before leaving.

As expected, Batman stood outside.

"You are pathetic," she announced, before walking away to find Gordon. Gordon, who was making a ridiculous effort to look busy while sporting the world's most obvious look of guilt.

"You could have just told me the room was wired," she stated.

"I thought you two might want to talk about other things," he said.

"Yes, but I think everyone knows it's a stupid idea to be in a relationship with someone who's part Joker- part person and I don't want to discuss that right now because honestly, we've got to get him tried," she said.

Gordon nodded. "I respect that," he said and the Batman joined them.

Misha glared at him. "It was his idea, wasn't it?"

Once again, Gordon nodded.

"I thought you might want to talk to him," he said lamely.

"I don't," she said, "not right now."

"With the way you were defending him, I thought you might want to talk to him," he went on. Gordon took that as his queue to leave the two alone.

"Look, I'm presenting a perspective which I think the court should not ignore," she said, "romantically, I'm done with him. For now, anyway."

Bruce frowned. "For real?"

"I don't know, I don't want to talk about it," she admitted. "I don't know what to do. He proved last night that we can talk about things- I can try my best to get him listen to me but when the Joker takes over, he won't listen to any of it. Did you know he asked me to marry him?"

"What?" He couldn't help it, it was unexpected. After his initial reaction, he had to work very hard to make sure that his face remained neutral. _How did she take that so easily?_

If he was her, he'd freak out, run away and never meet the person who'd suggested the thing ever again.

But, she wasn't him he realized, and it was her decision to make.

So he decided to play it safe and keep quiet.

"Yeah, right before he went on to attack you, he did," she went on, "like, I tried to get him to listen to me by saying that I would if he'd set things right but he didn't. And that's what worries me. He could tell me that he cares, that he's passionate about  _normal_  things but then he'd completely go- no offence, bat shit crazy and I'd be powerless. You get that right?"

Bruce sighed in relief when he realized that the Joker had repeatedly failed in manipulating Misha. He imagined the mess they'd be in if she agreed to marry him. Oh thank the gods she'd been in her senses the whole time.

"So what do you want to do?" he asked her.

"Establish myself at Wayne Enterprises for starters," she said.

He grinned. "Done."

"Oh shut up, there's something such as merit," she rebuked him.

"Okay," he mocked defeat.

"You dare try to unfairly usurp me," she warned him.

He raised his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay."

They shared a laugh but stopped when Gordon entered the room again.

"Why is it that every time you visits, he escapes?" he asked her warily.

Misha and Bruce looked at one another in surprise.

_"He's escaped again?"_  they said together.

"Yes," he said. "And this time he doesn't want to be found. He swapped clothes with a normal criminal on his way out. He could be anywhere."

Misha rolled her eyes. "Just once I'd like to not worry about him and do my job," she grumbled before turning to Gordon. "Lemme guess, you want a picture of him without the make up, as a normal person yes?"

He nodded and Misha pulled out her phone, shuffling through her picture gallery. "Here you go," she said, handing him her cell phone.

When she looked at Bruce, he was eyeing her sceptically. "What? Everyone has pictures of people they live with," she retorted.

 


	26. Harvey Dent

In the next few days Gotham had been plastered with pictures, various pictures of the Joker without make up as a normal person. Of course, many did call- actually, a lot of people called claiming that the Joker had once ridden, come to their stores but by now it was established that most of these calls were from people who'd seen him with Misha all those years ago and since.

As much as she hated it- and she was sure Bruce hated it too- Misha found herself under the media's spotlight.

And given the accuracy of journalism in the twenty first century- there were, well, multiple rumours circulating about her. Fox News claimed that she was an undercover agent sent by the Pakistani intelligence to seduce and recruit the Joker. CNN was somewhere between deeming her a terrorist or an innocent caught in the crossfire. The local news channels, Gotham News leading the campaign, painted her as a victim of Stockholm syndrome after the Joker invaded her home. The Channel 4 news, Gotham's most _reliable_  news network, deemed her a usurper, the entire ordeal being a careful plan to get to Bruce Wayne.

Needless to say, both Wayne and the new local (and international, for she got a call from a French news channel just yesterday) celebrity found all speculations to be bullshit, to put it frankly, if not amusing and decided to ignore them. In the end, a formal letter was released by the Wayne Enterprises PR team, threatening lawsuit if the insane ideas did not stop and that seemed to silence a few journalists.

Channel 4 and Gotham News still insisted on their respective theories though but by then Misha had gotten used to her not so welcomed celebrity status and whenever she was bombarded by the press, she'd ignore them even though she was tempted to punch a few anchors- specially the one from Channel 4.

_And people thought Fox News was messed up,_  Misha thought one day as she walked towards Gordon's office to discuss tactics (since well, all of theirs had failed so incredibly.) trying to appear graceful and unaffected by the horde of news crews that seemed to orbit her wherever she went these days.

"It's been weeks," Gordon announced once she and Bruce disguised as Batman were in his office away from, well, everyone. "I thought we'd have found him by now."

"He doesn't want to be found," Misha repeated his words, "That explains it. That means he's planning something."

"For his sake, I hope it's not too bad," Batman said and they both agreed.

"We've plastered every available inch of wall that is public property with the Joker's-" Gordon stopped and corrected himself upon seeing Misha glare at him, "- err, Jack's pictures but no one seems to know where he is. There's no underworld of Gotham left for him to hide either and if he's left town then he would have been found out too, the whole world knows who he is now."

"It wouldn't take a lot for him to take someone hostage and live with them," Batman suggested, "I mean, no offense Misha, but it worked out just fine for him the last time he tried it."

Misha sighed and if she did feel offended by it, she didn't show it. "Yeah, you're right."

"Should we start searching houses at the Narrows?" Gordon asked.

"No, that's too predictable," Misha disagreed. "He won't go back to the Narrows again."

"Which means the police should be on a look out," Batman said, "And if you need me, I'll be there."

"We'll put it up on the news," Gordon said, "Warn people of any suspicious behavior-"

Batman interrupted, "No, that'll only make them panic. The last thing we need is for people to panic. Let things go the way they are. Just alert the police. Something will turn up eventually."

Gordon nodded. "Okay," he said. "No one's gonna know."

They ended the meeting at that.

* * *

When Misha had gotten the job as Bruce's secretary, she'd thought her job would be hard- to put it mildly. She had thought that there would be hours of paperwork to document, meetings to keep up with, Bruce's disinterest in his own company to make up for by keeping track of every innovation and idea that Lucius Fox would have liked Bruce to look into and that sort of thing.

What she had not expected was to give him a brief over view (make that five words of "everything's fine at the enterprise") of her job during dinner.

At one of the most exclusive restaurants in all of Gotham too.

And due to its nature, a group of 'paps' were present which further annoyed her; oh yes, she had had the misfortune of reading the newspaper that morning and she did not like what she saw.

"They think I'm cheating on you with Batman," she muttered into Bruce's ear as they walked up the stairs of the restaurant's main entrance.

Bruce suppressed a laugh as he nodded to the manager who guided them to their seats.

"Someone tell them that I am Batman," he stated sarcastically once they were seated. "They might have a field day."

"Trust me, they're already getting that," she told him. A waiter came to take their orders and almost immediately returned with it.

Misha shot him a questioning look.

"What? I'm the chief patron," he shrugged off as though it was a normal thing. She chuckled when she realized that to him, it _was_  a normal thing.

"Of course," she agreed and they talked about the current happenings. Like how much the press seemed to love pairing them together. Misha felt that Bruce liked the little too much since it was the fourth time in the five day working week where he'd taken her to dinner. She hoped it was just him trying to be friendly and not what she suspected him of being.

She was definitely not the kind of a girl who'd be in a relationship with her boss. At least she hoped that she wasn't anyway.

She decided she needed a break from relationships. God knows how bad she was at them. Just look at Fram and the mess she'd made with Jack…

So, she decided not to focus on that and have fun. She enjoyed Bruce's company after all. It would not be fair to ruin it for something so trivial and nonexistent (in her mind anyway).

"Reese is quiet these days," she told him somewhere between the main course and dessert. Bruce looked highly amused.

"He's okay," he shrugged, "what's the worst he could do? He's the least of my worries."

"Are you sure? Because the Joker's out to get you," she said, "He might want to know who Batman really is. Just out of curiosity. That would be him."

"Even if he does, it wouldn't be my problem for long," Bruce said dismissively, "if it's the thing that can get us to catch the Joker, I'm okay with it. We just have to catch him."

"And give him a fair trial," Misha pointed out.

Bruce frowned.

"He needs it."

"Are you sure it has nothing to do with your history?"

"Shut up."

Bruce did not push further.

Instead, they talked about other things and he even walked her up to her apartment after they were done with dinner.

"This'll give 'em something to talk about," Misha whispered to Bruce as she spied a few photographers taking photographs of them as they walked together, Bruce's car not far behind.

"Keep giving them a show and they'll eventually get bored and move on," Bruce told her.

And true to his words, after seeing that there was nothing going on in the course of the twenty minute or so walk to Misha's apartment, by the time they'd gotten there, no one was following them.

"Thank goodness, I thought they'd follow us here," she exclaimed as she unlocked her apartment.

"They wouldn't even if they wanted to," he told her, "Wayne Enterprises will file a lawsuit against them. They wouldn't want that."

Misha nodded, smiling knowingly. "So," she started, not sure where this was going. Should she invite him in or just say good bye? Would he get the wrong impression if she did? It was rather frustrating!

Fortunately for her while she went through her internal distressed monologue, Bruce's cell phone rang. He talked quickly and discreetly and she recognized it as a call from Gordon, telling Batman of something that had happened.

"What's up?" she asked him, once he had hung up.

"It's Harvey Dent," he replied, "he's gone missing."

Misha frowned. "What?"

"Yeah, apparently he woke up a few days ago," he elaborated, "and demanded everyone to leave him alone once he learned about Rachel. He hasn't talked to anyone since."

"Oh god."

"And when the nurse came with his meal this evening, he was missing," he finished. "I better go look for it. With the Joker loose, the last thing we need is word to get out that Harvey's missing too. Imagine the chaos this city would fall into if something were to happen to its White Knight."

"Yeah, do that," Misha said to him. They bid one another good night and Misha watched him leave. Then she opened her apartment door and stepped inside.

To her immense horror and surprise, she found Harvey Dent waiting for her there. She'd heard that he had burned half his face in the accident. She hadn't known the extent of the burn though and it was that sight that partly scared her.

"The Joker's one weakness," the man sneered, "let's see if you're enough to get him to come out of his hole."

Suddenly, Misha felt a new kind of tension weigh her down.

* * *

"What's the matter?" Batman asked Gordon once he'd arrived at the police station. "You told me that Harvey escaped. Why are we meeting here?"

Gordon looked pale as he answered his question. "He's got my family," he told him. "He called me and told me that he has my family."

Bruce froze.

"What?"

"Yes, he told me that he'd make everything even once he'd see me," he went on. "What happened to him?"

"I don't…" Bruce thought hard. Why was Harvey behaving like this? Why was-

And then it came to him.

The Joker wouldn't exactly place the fate of Gotham on a pair of ferries now, would he?

It had to be Harvey. It had to be Gotham's hope. It had to be the White Knight. Of course.

Even though he was not sure if it was intentional anymore (who was he kidding? This was the Joker for crying out loud!), the Joker had succeeded in bringing him down to their level.

He hoped it was not what he feared but common sense told him that the worst had happened.

"He wants to settle his score with you," Batman told Gordon.

"What am I supposed to do?" asked he, looking thoroughly defeated.

"Listen to me Gordon," he urged him, "you will go there but you won't try to hurt him. Just talk and if things go out of hand, I'll step in, okay?"

Gordon nodded though he did not look so sure himself.

The worst had just happened.

* * *

"Hey, don't worry," Misha whispered to Gordon's eldest son, Jim Jr. and Barbara, his wife. "I'm sure they'll be here."

They nodded yet there was no denying the fear in their eyes. Misha sighed. Truth be told, she was scared as well. There was something very, very wrong with Harvey Dent; apart from his obvious physical disfiguration too.

At present, the man was nowhere to be seen and it alarmed her because, well, that meant that he could virtually be anywhere and there was nothing they could do about it. She wondered why she had been brought there but then again, Harvey had not exactly given them any explanation for his actions. She'd heard him call Gordon but that was it.

She briefly wondered if Bruce knew. _Of course he knows_ , her conscious told,  _he's probably coming up with some plan with Gordon right now._

The thought was supposed to comfort her. It did not.

They were all tied up which honestly did not make the situation any better. She had realized a while ago that this was the place where Rachel had died and had even wondered if that's what he planned to do with them but she was there.

Why was she there?

If Dent wanted revenge for Rachel's death, Gordon's family was understandable. Why was she part of the equation? Harvey didn't even know her; she had no connection with anyone who he could have bla-

_Jack._

Misha closed her eyes momentarily before snapping it open.  _Speak of the Devil_ , she thought as she spied him walk into the room from the shadows. He wasn't wearing the Joker's garb but then, he had wanted to go into hiding.

"You're all here?" he addressed no one in particular leaving them to nod (well the Gordons' were not her) as he began to untie them.

"Where's H- Harvey?" Barbara asked him.

"He's outside," he answered, "He's waiti-"

He got cut off by the sound of a gun going off.

_BANG!_

"Now, now Jack- you should learn to play fair," Harvey snarled as he entered the scene. He shot a few times at the ground near Jack to make stand further away from the hostages. It didn't matter that they were all untied. Harvey had a gun pointed at them.

"There's a reason I invited you here. It won't be long now. Gordon's almost here."

True to his words, a moment later they heard James Gordon rushing into the scene. He was taken aback to find Jack there but his surprise at Harvey wielding a gun at his family was greater.

"Come on, Harvey- we can talk about this," he started but was silenced by the man himself.

"I am done listening to all of you!" he shouted. "Now you're all going to listen to me!"

Silence.

"Rachel had a chance," he went on, "a fifty- fifty chance which in this damned city everyone has! But you-" he turned to Jack, "- you signalled her out! And you're going to pay."

He walked towards Misha. "You're going to pay the price!" He grabbed her, pointing the gun at her.

"Now look,you don't have to kill any civ-" Gordon started but Harvey interrupted him.

"Civilian? She's an accomplice! She's kept him safe for all those years when she could have gone to the police! She could have stopped Rachel's dea-"

"She did try!" Gordon shouted. "She came to us before the entire thing happened. Harvey listen to yourself!"

"She wasn't fast enough," he declared before turning to Jack once more. "Both of you are responsible for what happened to Rachel. She's going to have the same chance as Rachel." He took out a coin and tossed it up in the air catching it. "Well, well, what do you know? She's lucky. You, not so much."

"Wh-" Misha frowned but then it happened.

Harvey shot Jack.

She screamed and he let go of her, quickly moving towards Gordon's family. Gordon's attention diverted towards them- not that anyone could blame him and Misha scrambled up to Jack.

"Jack?" she whispered, seeing the quick reddening of his shirt in his left shoulder area. He'd been shot in the shoulder. "Jack, wake up- please."

It took a moment but he did, clasping his wound. There was a feral look in his eyes as he gritted his teeth. "This man's gonna meet his end all right," he growled.

"You're not going to do anything like that J-" she warned him but stopped when they noticed that Batman had arrived.

He briefly looked at them and perhaps there was some form of contact between the Batman and Jack because both of them nodded in union before the Batman moved towards Harvey, trying to coax him out of doing something he'd regret.

It didn't work.

In the end, Harvey shot the Batman and in the brief moment of shock that followed, Jack tackled him into the ground. That gave both Batman and Gordon enough time to insure that Gordon's family was safe and rendered Harvey unconscious. Gordon cuffed him and took the gun away from him.

"I'll see to it that he gets the help he needs," he told Batman. "And you," he faced Jack, "We've been looking everywhere for you. You're under arrest."

Jack looked sheepish. "Yeah, I got that the first time you arrested me."

"Where have you been?" the Batman asked him and he rolled his eyes.

"I was looking for this man here," he told him, very loudly and exasperatingly. Batman said nothing to that and he went on, "You didn't honestly think that I was going to leave the fate of Gotham on a stupid boat did you? I messed up this guy and I wanted to make things right."

"We-" Gordon started but a look from Batman caused him to correct that, "-I'll see to it that the jury knows what you did tonight."

Jack smiled smugly. "Well, duh," he uttered before starting to walk off.

"You're un-" Gordon started and he interrupted him.

"I get that. I just need to... talk to her," he gestured towards Misha.

"Go ahead," Gordon said to him before turning to his own family.

 


	27. Courtroom

"We need to talk," Jack stated simply as they walked away from the crime scene. They, as in, him, Misha and the Batman who was strangely very protective of her; Commissioner Gordon was still at the scene comforting his own family and all of them had silently decided to give them the privacy they needed.

Until the police came anyway.

Then they would not have the privacy as Gordon would be busy telling how Batman had killed Dent and how the Joker had intervened.

But that was not happening now so-

"I know," Misha replied nonchalantly.

"Privately," Jack went on, sending Batman a glare. Bruce decided to take the highway and simply nodded, moving away from them by a few feet.

Of course, he was still close enough to listen in on their conversation but far enough for them to get the privacy they needed.

He was not particularly enthusiastic about it.

Every time the Joker and Misha talked, something bad happened. One way or the other.

"I'm sorry," Jack said the minute Batman had walked away.

Misha, clearly unprepared for that, blinked. "What?"

 _'_ _I'm sorry for dragging you into all of this,'_  he repeated to himself,  _'and I completely understand if you don't want anything to do with me. I'm a mess. I'd be happy for you though, if you decided to end whatever it is that we've going on.'_

He was lying through his teeth at that.

He would not be happy if she left him now. For the first time in a very long time, he could see the light at the far end of the dark tunnel he'd gotten himself in and he knew that if she stayed- because for some reason and, yes- it had to be beyond love because love was just an emotion? It couldn't be so powerful now could it?- he did not know what it was, he felt much better around her.

She had to know that much.

But, Batman had told him- and he hated the dude for it- that if he truly did love (again. Love was a gross understatement to what he felt when it came to Misha) her, he would let her go.

Jack did not want her to go but decided that he'd give her the choice.

If she wanted to stay with him, she could. If she didn't, well, she could.

The thought made him feel very uneasy though. He found that he really did not care about her opinion in the matter. He wanted her to be with him  _always_.

And yet, he could not deny the greater odds of her leaving. After all, he'd turned her world upside down. He got her into this mess without asking her if she wanted to be involved in any of this and maybe, she had never really wanted to be part of it. Maybe she felt obligated to be nice to him.

She would leave him, he knew. His knees shook at that thought. It was not that obvious for someone else to notice but he knew and that told him that it was worse than he'd anticipated. He was far too invested to let go of her now but he had to-

He'd go to Arkham for God knows how long. He might never even get of there. As long as the Joker was a part of him, he'd stay there and boy, did he wish the madman would take over.

He felt mute when he was the Joker. All of his senses of feeling would shut down or be dimmed to the point where only the pain of others excited him.

The feeling was horrible- especially given the guilt he'd experience afterwards- but anything, he reckoned- was better than this weird, inevitable, scary feeling of doom that lurked about the horizon.

"Jack," Misha said, interrupting his rather muddled and frantic chain of thought, "What're you saying?"

He realized that he hadn't exactly voiced what he wanted to say. It had come so easily a moment ago and now he had no idea what to say.

"I…" he struggled to put his entire internal monologue into words- the right kind of words, "I-  _oh god,_  I- I can't breathe when you're not around."

She seemed a little startled by the revelation and he face palmed himself, causing her to look a little alarmed.

"I mean- that's not- no, it is what I mean but- I don't want you to think that you're obligated to me," he tried explaining.

She started to speak but he stopped her by the gesture of his hand.

"I mean, what I'm trying to say is that," he took a deep breath to calm himself down but felt a strange burning sensation in his chest as he did so, "I've put you through hell and back. I- y- you don't deserve that. Yo- you deserve kindness and b- better things. I- I want you to le- leave me," he had to take a pause to breath once more. His vision was getting blurry which meant that he would cry. He was angry at himself for being like that. He was  _not_  going to tear up in front of Batman. If he did, everyone would know what he felt towards her and she would become an easy target.  _He had so many debts to clear…_  "If you want to," he continued, "I won't stop you."

_There._

He'd said it.

He hoped that she would reply in negative but he knew, that she wouldn't.  _Why would she?_

It didn't make sense. She would probably start dating that Harwinton guy- Fram. They would be better off together anyway. He'd known her whole life and-

Jack focused on the inevitable disappointment. He could hear the sirens blaring and when he shifted his gaze towards the caped crusader, he was gone. The police were arriving.

Misha was staring at him in total and complete shock.

 _"_ _Leave you?"_  she stated, highly confused as though it did not make sense.

"Yes," he said, "if that makes you happy."

And then she narrowed her eyes _. "Excuse you!"_  she exclaimed, poking her right index finger onto his chest. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" she asked him.

He frowned _. What?_

"You think you can give me hell and then walk away?" she went on, "Umm, no.  _Hell_ , no."

"What-" He tried to speak but she interrupted him.

"Shut up, I'm done listening to you," she continued, "because every time I listen to you,  _you little shit_ , you manipulate me- so shut up. And listen. I had the chance to opt out- to  _leave_  you but I didn't because I believe in you Jack. I know you can do so much better. I know you can be a better person and I am  _not_  leaving you!"

And this point the police had arrived but neither noticed.

"But- you should," he found himself despite the situation, "It's in your best interest. I don't know when I'm going to get out of Arkham- if they even send me there. I've killed so many people- I let a part of me get the better of me and murder people. I'm guilty of murder, Misha!"

"You just told me that you can't breathe when I'm not there!" she cried, "You can't just say things like that and then tell me to leave you. That's it. You're stuck with me for life!"

Bruce and Alfred had also arrived. But, of course, the two didn't notice.

"What?" he asked, alarmed.

"Yes," she exclaimed, "you're done for. I don't care how long you're at Arkham. There's something such as 'visiting hours' and I can visit you during that."

"You've thought about it?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Because I love you, you freak!"

"Don't call me a freak."

"I'll call you whatever I want to Jack. And you're a freak," she stated, "You're crazy for thinking I'd ever leave you. Why would I?"

"Because you deserve better," he went on.

"Trust me, I know what I deserve," she said, stepping forward to hug, "and it's definitely not anyone but you."

They hugged and the moment they leaned in to kiss, Bruce yelled, "Get a room!" causing both to jump apart to find that not just Bruce, Alfred or Gordon and his family had seen the exchange but also, the entirety of Gordon's squad and a few district officers.

Misha and Jack, stared at everyone wide eyed, turning multiple shades of red.

**Dear GOD.**

"I- I can explain," she tried in a suddenly, very squeaky voice- a stark contrast from her bold, no- nonsense voice a few seconds ago.

Of course, all that did was cause everyone present, Jack included, to start laughing.

Misha reckoned that she had never been more embarrassed in her entire life.

* * *

Misha nervously tapped her fingers on the desk as they waited for the judge to enter the courtroom.

"Will you stop doing that?" Bruce whispered to her, clearly annoyed.

"I can't, I'm nervous," she whispered.

"Why?"

"What if they give him life sentence?" she asked him and he sighed.

"That won't happen Misha," he said, "public opinion of the Joker has changed. Particularly after the Harvey Dent incident; everyone takes it as a way of him trying to make up for all he did."

"But it doesn't excuse him from killing now does it?" she countered.

Bruce sighed, wondering if he ought to share the classified information with her.

"The judge knows the truth," he whispered.

It did not affect her much. "What difference does that make?" she asked. "He's still going to go jail. I  _told_  him not to go ahead with it!"

Bruce smiled fondly at her. "He's going to be fine, Misha," he assured her just as the Judge stepped into the room. Misha sent him an unsure look before looking towards the other door through which the officers were bringing in Jack.

As Jack. Not the Joker.

Gone was the face paint, the poorly green dyed hair and the purple and green clothes. Jack wore the simple, standard orange- yellow (whatever shade it was, Misha reckoned she was colour blind) jail suit. He didn't offer resistance or anything as the officers brought him, cuffed and all.

He just looked in her direction and smiled at her briefly before turning his attention to the matter at hand, causing Bruce, who was sitting beside her to visibly tense.

"No offence," he whispered to her, "but how do you get used to his, you know, scars?"

Misha glared at him at that but said nothing. Instead, she stomped on his left foot causing him to curse rather loudly.

The judge glared at him too but carried on with the proceeding.

"Jack Napier," she began, "charged with first degree murder in bombings, raids and shootings. One hundred and forty people reported dead. Three hundred and eighty nine injured and twenty six still missing.

'Also, claims to be suffering from a dual personality disorder, verified by the staff at Arkham Asylum. The murders have been all conducted by the alter ego known largely as the Joker- the most vicious criminal in the whole history of Gotham, am I right?"

Jack's lawyer, hired courtesy to Bruce, accepted the charges, emphasizing on his client's mental state and that was all. After a brief consideration between the two lawyers present- the other representing Gotham city- privately, the Judge made her decision.

"It's a strange case," she admitted, "the law cannot take Mr Napier guilty- his alter ego, the Joker is but as the medics believe the Joker is contained, we cannot call him to court.

'Therefore, the decision of the judge and the jury of fifty seven people- the largest jury in all of Gotham- has decided that Mr Jack Napier is not guilty of the crimes committed by his alter ego, the Joker. However, he is subject to undergo therapy to make sure that the Joker stays contained at the Arkham Asylum for two years- the standard recovery period- or however long the doctors feel he needs to be there.

'Also, Mr Napier will not be granted the right to use any sort of weaponry for any purpose and will be put under house arrest until the staff at Arkham can make arrangements for his stay

'Court dismissed!" she ended her speech with a tap of the hammer and stood up.

Misha and Bruce quickly walked up to the stands were an officer was unlocking his cuffs. Jack's lawyer stood beside him, talking about something.

"Hey," Jack greeted her, the moment his eyes landed on her, "are you ready?"

The lawyer quickly handed him the papers he'd been carrying. "It's in the next room, in fifteen minutes."

He nodded. "Good, gives me enough time to change out of this." Then turning to Misha, he said, "I'll see you there, yes?" He gave her a quick peck on the lips before walking off with his lawyer.

Bruce frowned. "What is he going on about?"

"We're getting married," Misha told him casually as they walked out of the room- Misha a little quicker than she ought to be.

Bruce stopped. _"What?"_

"Yeah," she shrugged, "we were gonna do it anyway. Why not before he leaves?"

He continued to stare at her in disbelief. "Are you serious?"

"No, I'm Misha," she said lamely, "my best friend is here and I want you to be there too. Now, c'mon."

"Misha," Bruce tried to stop her, "exactly when did you two talk about this?"

"We talked about it a while ago, silly," she told him.

"And when was this 'a while ago?'"Bruce asked her, not believing a word of it.

"Well, it was-"

She was interrupted by the Joker- err, Jack as he came in. They seemed to be in a hurry for some reason. "C'mon," he said to her, taking a hold of his hand. Bruce decided it was the time to step.

"Wait- when did you talk about getting married?" he demanded.

Jack rolled his eyes. "She told me she'd marry me if I stopped the ferries from being blown up," he told him.

"What? The Batman stopped you from that!" Bruce insisted. "Misha told me herself!" Among other things, Misha and Bruce had decided not to tell Jack who Batman really was. It seemed rather inconvenient at the moment though but he didn't say anything.

"Yeah, but no one died," he shrugged.

Bruce stared at the two in disbelief.

"You two are weird," he declared and Misha giggled.

"Of course, we are," she agreed, "but you already knew that, didn't you?"


End file.
